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33.^ 

S./57 


CONTENTS. 


INTBODUCTION  TO  THIS  AMERICAN  EDITION. 

Br  EDWARD  BELLAMY.  Page  ix. 

Yf  THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY  AND  ITS  WORK. 

By  william  CLARKE.  Page  xxi. 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


ECONOMIC  By  G.  BERNARD  SHAW. 

o'  Rent.  The  Cultivation  and  Population  of  the  Earth. — Economic 
Origin  of  the  County  Family. — Economic  Rent  of  Land  and  Ability. 
J — Tenant  Right. — The  Advent  of  the  Proletarian.  Page  1. 

, Value.  Mechanism  of  Exchange.  — Price  and  Utility. — Effects 

j of  Supply. — Law  of  Indifference. — Total  and  Final  Utility. — Relation 
. of  Value  to  Cost  of  Production.  Page  9. 

C Wages.  The  Proletariat. — Sale  of  Labor. — Subsistence  Wage. — 
■^7^  Capitalism. — Increase  of  Riches  and  Decrease  of  Wealth. — Divorce 
of  Exchange  Value  from  Social  Utility.  Page  15. 

V . Conclusion.  Apparent  Discrepancies  between  History  and  The- 
^ry.  __  Socialism.  — Pessimism  and  Private  Property. — Economic 
^ Soundness  of  Meliorism.  Page  20. 


HISTORIC 


By  SIDNEY  WEBB,  LL.B.,  Barrister  at  Law, 
Lecturer  on  Political  Economy 

AT  THE  City  of  London  College. 


^ The  Development  of  the  Democratic  Ideal.  Ancestry  of 
T English  Socialism. — The  Utopians. — Introduction  of  the  Conception 
• of  Evolution. — The  Lesson  of  Democracy.  Page  26. 


iv 


CONTENTS. 


The  Disintegration  of  the  Old  Synthesis.  The  Decay  of 
Medievalism. — The  Industrial  Revolution. — The  French  Revolution. 
— The  Progress  of  Democracy.  Page  31. 

The  Period  op  Anarchy.  Individualism. — Philosophic  Radi- 
calism and  Laisser-faire. — The  Utilitarian  Analysis.  Page  35. 

The  Intellectual  and  Moral  Revolt;  and  its  Political 
Outcome.  The  Poets,  Communists,  Philosophers,  Christian  Socialists, 
and  Evolutionists. — The  Extension  of  State  Activity. — Existing  State 
Registration,  Inspection,  and  Direct  Organization  of  Labor.  — The 
Radical  Programme.  Page  40. 

The  New  Synthesis.  Evolution  and  the  Social  Organism. — Lib- 
erty and  Equality. — Social  Health.  Page  60. 

INDUSTRIAL  . By  WILLIAM  CLARKE,  M.A.,  Cambridge. 

The  Supersession  of  Individualist  Production.  The  Cot- 
tage Industry. — The  Mechanical  Inventions. — The  Factory  System. 

Page  56. 

The  Growth  op  the  Great  Industry.  The  Expansion  of  Lan- 
cashire.— The  White  Slavery. — State  Interference.  Page  65. 

The  Development  of  the  World-Commerce.  The  Triumph 
of  Free  Trade. — The  Fight  for  New  Markets. — The  Carriers  of  the 
World.  Page  71. 

The  Differentiation  op  Manager  and  Capitalist.  The  Rise 
of  Co-operation  and  the  J oint  Stock  Company. — The  Ring  ” and  the 
Trust.”  — The  Despotism  of  Capitalist  Communism.  Page  76. 

MORAL  ...  By  SYDNEY  OLIVIER,  B.A.,  Oxford. 

The  Evolution  of  Morality.  The  Common  End.  — The  Con- 
ditions of  Freedom. — The  Individual  and  the  Race. — The  Growth  of 
Social  Consciousness.—  Convention  and  Law.  Page  93. 

Property  and  Morals.  The  Reaction  of  Property-Forms  on 
Moral  Ideas. — Class  Morality. — Negation  of  the  Conditions  of  Free- 
dom.— Social  Dissolution.  Page  104. 

The  Re-integration  of  Society.  The  Ordering  of  the  Primary 
Conditions. — The  Idea  of  the  Poor  Law. — Secondary  Conditions. — 
Morality  and  Reason. — The  Idea  of  the  School.  Page  112. 


CONTENTS. 


V 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 

PROPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM.  By  GRAHAM  WALLAS,  M.A. 

Oxford. 

Visible  Wealth.  Consumers’ Capital. — Producers’ Capital. 

Page  120, 

Debts  and  Services.  Deferred  and  Anticipated  Consumption. 
— Interest.  Page  125. 

Ideas.  Copyright  and  Patent  Right. — Education.  Page  132. 

INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM  . . By  ANNIE  BESANT. 

The  Organization  of  Labor.  Rural. — Urban. — International. 

Page  136. 

The  Distribution  of  the  Product.  The  Individual.  — The 
Municipality. — The  State.  Page  147. 

Social  Safeguards.  The  Stimulus  to  Labor.  — The  Provision 
for  Initiative. — The  Reward  of  Excellence.  Page  150. 

THE  TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 

TRANSITION By  G.  BERNARD  SHAW. 

Medievalism  to  Capitalism.  The  Old  Order.  — Merchant  Ad- 
venturer, Pirate,  Slave-Trader,  Capitalist. — The  Old  Order  burst  by  the 
New  Growth. — Chaos.  Page  157. 

Anarchy  to  State  Interierence.  Political  Economy.  — He- 
gelian Conception  of  the  Perfect  State. — Socialism : Its  Practical  Dif- 
ficulties.— Impracticability  of  Catastrophic  Change. — Democracy  the 
Antidote  to  Bureaucracy. — The  State  Interferes.  Page  160, 

State  Interference  to  State  Organization.  Hard  Times. — 
Revival  of  Revolutionary  Socialism. — Remaining  Steps  to  the  Con- 
summation of  Democracy. — Machinery  of  Socialism. — Social  Pres- 
sure.— Urban  Rents.  — The  New  Taxation.  — State  Organization  of 
Labor  its  Indispensable  Complement.  — The  Unemployed. — Solution 
of  the  Compensation  Ditficulty. — Economic  Reactions  of  the  Progress 
of  Municipal  Socialism.—  Militant  Socialism  Abandoned  but  not  Dis- 
honored. Page  169. 


VI 


COKTEKTS. 


THE  OUTLOOK By  HUBERT  BLAND. 

The  Condition  op  English  Parties.  The  Lines  of  Progress. 

The  Rate  of  Progress  in  Thought  and  Industry  Compared  with  that  in 
Politics. — Alleged  Disappea^rance  of  the  Whig.  Page  184. 

The  Socializing  op  Politics.  Political  Myopia.—  Sham  Social- 
ism.— Red  Herrings.  — Dreams  of  Permeating  the  Liberal  Party.— 
Disillusionment. — The  New  Departure.  Page  189. 

The  Duties  op  the  Hour.  The  True  Line  of  Cleavage. 

Hopes  and  Fears.—  The  Solidarity  of  the  Workers.  Page  198. 


INDEX. 


Page  203. 


INTEODUCTION  TO  THIS  AMERICAN 
EDITION. 


■ 


INTRODUCTION 


TO  THIS  AMERICAN  EDITION. 

By  EDWARD  BELLAMY. 

The  introduction  to  the  American  public  of  the  present 
edition  of  the  deservedly  famous  English  work  known  as  The 
Fabian  Essays,’’  is  an  occasion  that  suggests  some  general  ob- 
servations upon  the  subject  of  socialism,  considered  especially 
from  the  American  point  of  view. 

Until  very  recently  socialism  has  been  a word  rarely  heard 
in  the  United  States,  and  still  more  rarely  understood,  even 
among  intelligent  persons.  Till  quite  lately  the  average  Amer- 
ican has  conceived  of  a socialist,  when  he  has  considered  him 
at  all,  as  a mysterious  type  of  desperado,  reputed  to  infest  the 
dark  places  of  continental  Europe  and  engaged  with  his  fel- 
lows in  a conspiracy  as  monstrous  as  it  was  futile,  against  civil- 
ization and  all  that  it  implied.  That  such  an  atrocious  and 
hopeless  undertaking  should  find  any  following  of  sane  men, 
has  seemed  accountable  only  by  the  oppressions  of  European 
despots  and  their  maddening  effect  on  the  popular  mind. 
That  socialism  could  never  take  root  in  a republic  like  ours 
was  assumed  as  an  axiom.  Though  it  might  be  well  enough 
for  Americans  to  study  the  phenomena  of  socialism,  in  a phil- 
osophic and  purely  speculative  way,  as  a disease  of  monarchical 
systems,  any  one  would  have  been  laughed  at  who  should  have 
suggested  ten  years  ago  that  the  subject  would  ever  have  a 
practical  interest  to  our  people. 


X 


INTRODUCTIOK. 


That  was  but  yesterday,  and  to-day  the  most  significant  and 
important  movement  of  thought  among  the  American  people, 
is  agreed  by  all  observers  to  be  the  growth  of  the  socialistic 
sentiment.  To-day,  in  this  country,  the  various  aspects  of 
radical  social  and  economic  reform  on  socialistic  lines  are  the 
most  prominent  themes  of  literary  treatment,  of  public  discus- 
sion, and  of  private  debate  whenever  two  or  three  serious- 
minded  persons  take  counsel  together  as  to  the  state  of  the 
nation. 

At  first,  when  the  social  question  so  suddenly  seized  upon 
the  attention  of  the  American  people,  there  were  those  who 
reasoned  that  the  interest  in  the  subject  would  prove  transient; 
that  it  was,  in  fact,  but  a fad.’’  There  are  few,  if  any,  who 
so  delude  themselves  at  this  writing.  So  rapidly  has  the  popu- 
lar interest  in  socialistic  ideas  broadened  and  deepened,  and 
shown  its  working  in  the  fields  of  literature,  of  legislation,  of 
political  organization,  that  there  are  to-day  few  so  purblind  as 
not  to  see  and  admit  that  the  social  problem,  the  great  prob- 
lem of  social  justice  here,  as  in  Europe,  can  be  got  rid  of  only 
by  being  solved,  and,  until  then,  will  have  no  mercy  on  our 
peace.  Already  it  is  apparent  from  the  shaping  of  events  that 
the  public  questions  of  the  coming  time  are  to  be  social,  indus- 
trial, humane,  and  not  political  and  partisan.  They  are  to  be 
concerned,  not  with  the  external  relations  of  the  nation  with 
other  nations,  but  with  the  radical  analysis  and  reconstruction  of 
the  relations  in  which  classes  and  individuals  within  the  nation 
stand  toward  one  another  and  the  whole.  More  and  more  all 
other  issues  are  to  be  subordinated  to  and  absorbed  in  the  one 
great  issue  between  the  present  economic  system  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a radically  new  and  nobler  system  on  the  other.  In 
this  great  controversy  we  all  who  yet  have  any  considerable 
stretch  of  life  before  us  must  take  one  side  or  the  other,  and 
the  air  already  is  electric  with  the  tension  of  decision.  The 
elderly  men  who  are  about  retiring  from  the  stage  of  public 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


affairs,  may  be  able  without  too  much  discredit,  provided  they 
are  not  dilatory,  to  carry  to  the  grave  intact  the  ignorance  of 
their  generation  as  to  socialism,  but  no  branch  of  education  is 
going  to  be  more  essential  to  the  outfit  of  the  rising  generation, 
than  a full  and  discriminating  acquaintance  with  the  subject. 
These  are  conditions  surely  which  leave  no  argument  necessary 
as  to  the  public  utility  of  all  efforts  at  the  present  time  to  pro- 
mote the  study,  by  Americans  especially,  of  socialism,  or,  if 
we  may  so  translate  the  term,  of  humane  economics,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  political  economy  of  the  schools. 

At  the  outset  of  any  such  study  several  general  questions 
are  suggested.  What  is  socialism?  Why  is  it  so  late  a 
comer  among  the  forces  of  civilization?  For  while  so  very 
newly  arisen  in  America,  it  has  really  not  been  known  very 
much  longer  (only  some  fifty  years  or  so)  in  Europe.  Why. 
again,  has  it  come  to  the  front  at  this  particular  time  in 
America,  and  why  did  it  raise  its  head  earlier  in  Europe? 
And  why  have  its  ideas  never  in  previous  ages  produced 
any  deep  or  extended  movement  among  the  nations  of  the 
world  ? 

For  the  purpose  of  these  questions  socialism  may  be  said  to 
be  the  application  of  the  democratic  method  to  the  economic 
administration  of  a people.  It  aims  by  substituting  public 
management  of  industry  and  commerce  in  the  common  interest, 
for  private  management  in  diverse  personal  interests,  to  more 
nearly  equalize  the  distribution  of  wealth,  while  at  the  same 
time  increasing  the  volume  of  wealth  produced  for  distribution. 
This  definition  while,  of  course,  not  going  at  all  into  details, 
will  suffice  to  suggest  the  answer  to  the  second  question  raised, 
namely.  Why  has  socialism  been  so  late  a comer  among  the 
forces  of  civilization  ? It  is  simply  because  the  democratic 
idea  — the  idea  of  self-government  by  the  people  for  their  own 
benefit  — has  only  within  a very  recent  period  achieved  a firm 
establishment  in  men’s  minds.  The  democratic  idea  must  first 


INTRODUCTION. 


xii 

be  established  as  a general  theory  of  government,  that  is,  in  the 
political  field,  before  the  idea  can  occur  of  applying  it  to  the 
economic  field.  The  democratic  movement  in  Europe,  al- 
though the  French  Revolution  broke  the  ground  for  it,  did  not 
effectively  begin  till  the  first  third  and  middle  of  the  present 
century,  after  the  reaction  against  the  Revolution  had  lost 
its  force.  Consequently,  we  find,  as  might  be  expected,  the 
rise  of  socialism  dating  from  that  period.  European  democ- 
racy, almost  from  the  first,  took  on  a socialistic  quality  for  the 
reason  that  the  pressing  economic  misery  of  the  people  sug- 
gested as  most  urgent  the  application  of  the  new  popular  power 
to  the  economic  problem.  We  also  find  suggested  in  this  state- 
ment the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  although  democracy  in 
politics  was  established  in  America  a century  before  it  began  to 
make  serious  progress  in  Europe,  yet  in  the  Old  World  the 
socialistic  idea  originated  fifty  years  before  it  began  to  stir  here. 
Socialism  results  spontaneously  when  a people  having  a press- 
ing economic  problem  to  deal  with  become  masters  of  the 
democratic  method.  In  Europe  the  problem  was  already  there 
and  had  been  for  ages,  when  the  method  first  came  to  hand. 
In  America  we  had  the  method  of  solution  but  lacked,  until 
recently,  any  pressing  economic  problem  to  solve.  Now  the 
problem  has  come,  and  the  Kansas  farmer  and  the  New 
England  wage-earner,  as  they  bring  to  its  solution  the  demo- 
cratic methods  they  have  so  long  used  for  other  purposes,  be- 
come in  a day  socialists,  without  having  ever  before  heard  of 
socialism. 

Up  to  within  a recent  period,  owing  to  our  scanty  population 
and  vast  resources,  the  question  of  a comfortable  subsistence 
has  been  in  America  one  which  every  tolerably  energetic  person 
has  been  fairly  well  able  to  solve  for  himself.  So  great  has 
been  the  plenty,  that  the  individualistic,  every-man-for-himself- 
and-the-devil-for-the-hindmost  way  of  getting  a living  — crude, 
wasteful,  brutal  as  it  was  — nevertheless  sufficed  to  secure  a 


INTRODUCTION. 


XIU 


good  degree  of  general  comfort  and  an  approximate  equality  of 
fortunes.  This  period  has  now  come  to  an  end.  Within  the 
past  few  decades,  the  concentration  of  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  has  been  proceeding  at  a rate,  ever  growing  swifter,  which 
now  threatens  a practical  expropriation  of  the  people  in  the 
interest  of  a small  class.  Indeed,  it  may  almost  be  said  that 
this  expropriation  has  already  been  practically  accomplished, 
for  it  has  been  shown  by  direct  deductions  from  the  mortgage 
statistics  of  the  1890  census,  that  seventy-one  per  cent,  of  the 
aggregate  wealth  of  the  nation  is  already  held  by  nine  per  cent, 
of  the  population,  the  remaining  ninety-one  per  cent,  of  the 
population  being  limited  to  twenty-nine  per  cent,  of  the  total 
wealth.  It  is  further  shown  that  4,074  American  families  out 
of  a total  of  13,000,000  families,  own  twenty  per  cent,  of  this 
national  wealth  total,  or  two-thirds  as  much  as  belong  to  the 
ninety-one  per  cent,  of  the  population  mentioned  above. 

With  such  facts  and  figures  to  justify  his  growing  sense  of 
economic  distress  and  oppression,  the  American  must  indeed 
be  of  sluggish  mind,  who  does  not  recognize  already  preparing 
for  him,  and  in  course  of  being  fitted  to  his  shoulders,  the  yoke 
of  economic  servitude  his  European  brothers  so  long  have 
borne.  When  we  reflect  that  the  population  thus  suddenly 
and  unmistakably  confronted  with  the  prospect  of  degradation 
to  servile  and  proletarian  conditions  is  the  proudest-spirited, 
the  most  generally  intelligent  ever  known,  with  the  sentiment 
of  equality  bred  in  the  very  bones,  shall  we  wonder  at  the  sud- 
denness of  the  socialistic  outburst  in  the  United  States,  or  the 
swift  movement  of  its  propaganda  ? Must  we  not  rather 
recognize  in  the  American  situation  conditions  which  justify 
the  belief  that  the  suddenness  and  swiftness  of  the  rise  of 
socialism  in  this  country  presage  a lusty  vigor  of  growth  which 
shall  put  America  in  her  proper  place  as  the  world’s  pioneer 
in  the  pursuit  of  economic,  as  formerly  of  political,  equality  ? 
May  we  not  reasonably  expect  that  the  American  people. 


XIV 


INTEODUCTION. 


having  been  confronted  with  the  failure  of  the  present  economic 
system  to  secure  human  welfare  even  under  the  most  favorable 
conditions,  will  display  in  the  reconstruction  of  the  economic 
fabric  all  that  energy,  that  ingenuity  and  originality  of  device, 
and  that  rapidity  of  execution  which  are  the  distinguishing 
national  characteristics  ? 

Meanwhile,  owing  to  the  fact  that,  for  the  reasons  stated, 
the  social  economic  problem  came  earlier  to  the  front  in  Europe 
than  here,  Americans  have  the  advantage  of  a considerable 
body  of  foreign  literature,  German,  French  and  English, 
devoted  to  the  subject.  Perhaps  there  is  no  single  work  in 
this  socialistic  library  which  is  calculated  to  be  more  useful  to 
the  American  reader  who  desires  to  obtain  without  laborious 
research  a general  knowledge  of  the  argument  for  socialism 
than  the  Fabian  Essays.”  This  is  partly  because  of  their 
popular  style ; partly  from  the  excellent  arrangement  of  the 
matter,  with  a view  to  giving  an  all-around  idea  of  the  subject, 
respectively  from  the  historic,  economic  and  moral  view-points ; 
and  also  in  part  from  the  degree  of  resemblance  which  obtains 
between  English  and  American  institutions  and  habits  of 
thought.  The  fact  that  the  essays  are  by  different  authors, 
each  writing  in  a different  style,  has  an  effect  to  impart  a 
pleasing  variety,  while  the  system  with  which  the  essays  have 
been  grouped  secures  an  effect  of  coherency  and  method  as 
satisfactory  as  could  well  have  been  gained  by  a single  author- 
ship. The  arrangement  of  the  contents  has  the  further  ad- 
vantage, greatly  assisted  by  the  admirable  index,  of  enabling 
the  reader  who  does  not  care  to  read  a book  in  course  to 
select  particular  topics  for  study  as  his  interest  may  incline. 
It  is  a pleasure  especially  to  commend  the  good-tempered  and 
reasonable  tone  which  marks  the  argument  of  these  writers. 
This  method  it  is  needless  to  say,  far  from  implying  any  com- 
promising of  the  truth,  lends  itself  to  a more  clear  and  incisive 
criticism  of  existing  institutions  than  is  consistent  with  violent 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


and  denunciatory  rhetoric.  The  use  of  this  argumentative 
method  which  may  be  described  as  suaviter  in  modo  fortiter  in 
re^  is  indeed  as  characteristic  of  the  Fabian  Society  in  England 
as  of  the  nationalists  in  the  United  States. 

But  it  may  be  that  some  reader  may  not  know  what  this 
Fabian  Society  exactly  is,  which  gives  its  name  to  this  volume, 
and  of  which  the  essayists  all  are  members.  For  the  informa- 
tion of  any  such  it  may  be  said  that  the  name  was  assumed  a 
number  of  years  ago  by  an  organization  of  cultured  English- 
men who,  while  devoted  to  a radical  socialistic  propaganda, 
believed  that  they  could  most  effectually  promote  it  by  educa- 
tional methods  addressed  to  the  reason  rather  than  the 
prejudices  of  the  community.  In  this  view  they  have  since 
been  carrying  on  in  England  a very  extensive  and  effective 
work,  through  tracts,  books  and,  above  all,  popular  lectures, 
the  essays  in  this  volume  being  indeed  but  specimens  of  these 
popular  lectures  revised  for  publication.  While  the  more  rev- 
olutionary English  socialists  make  a show  of  deriding  as  too 
merely  academic  the  propaganda  of  the  Fabians,  it  may  be 
doubted  if  work  more  valuable  has  ever  been  done  by  any 
socialist  organization. 

In  addition  to  the  essays  contained  in  the  English  edition,  the 
present  volume  includes  a valuable  and  important  additional 
feature  in  the  form  of  a lecture  on  “ The  Fabian  Society  and  its 
Work,”  delivered  in  Boston  by  Mr.  William  Clarke,  M.A.,  him- 
self a Fabian  and  one  of  these  essayists,  in  the  winter  of  1893- 
94,  and  afterwards  published  in  the  New  England  Magazine, 

Nationalism  is  the  form  under  which  socialism  has  thus  far 
been  chiefly  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  American  people ; and 
it  is  proper  in  a preface  of  this  character  to  say  a few  words  by 
way  of  explaining  the  relative  significance  of  the  terms.  Ai 
socialist  is  one  who  believes  that  industry  and  commerce,  on 
which  the  welfare  of  all  depend,  should  not  be  left  as  now,  to 
be  controlled  irresponsibly  by  individuals  for  their  private  gain. 


xvi 


INTRODUCTION. 


: but  should  be  organized  by  the  community,  to  be  co-operatively 
i conducted,  with  an  equitable  (not  necessarily  equal)  distribu- 


tion of  the  product  among  the  members  of  the  community. 
That  is  what  socialism  strictly  means,  and  is  all  the  creed  that 


^ a socialist  can  be  held  to.  Now  it  is  a great  deal  to  be  able  to 
subscribe  to  this  creed,  but  it  is  not  quite  enough  of  a creed 
according  to  nationalists.  The  criticism  of  the  present  system 
involved  in  it  is  adequate ; but  in  defining  the  system  of  co- 
operation that  is  to  take  its  place,  it  leaves  unsettled  the  most 
vital  point  of  that  or  any  other  industrial  system,  namely, 
the  principle  on  which  the  industrial  product  is  to  be  shared, 
for  to  say  that  the  principle  of  the  division  is  to  be  equitable” 
is  no  more  than  to  say  it  should  be  reasonable,  and  leaves  the 
whole  question  open  to  discussion.  There  is  no  standard  to 
determine  what  an  equitable  division  of  anything  is,  if  once  we 
admit  it  may  be  an  unequal  division.  The  political  economists, 
indeed,  argue  that  the  present  division  of  wages  and  profits  is 
really  equitable,  although  so  unequal.  Now  nationalists  are 


who,  holding  all  that  socialir^^s  agree  on,  go  further. 


and  hold  also  that  the  distribution  of  the  co-operative  product 
among  the  members  of  the  community  must  be  not  merely 


equitable,  whatever  that  term  may  mean,  but  must 


^and  absolutely  equal. 

Of  course  it  is  not  meant  that  many  socialists  are  not  be- 
lievers in  economic  equality,  but  only  that  the  creed  of  socialism 
does  not  of  necessity  imply  it.  Among  the  essayists  in  the 
present  volume,  Mrs.  Besant,  and  probably  others,  seem 
strongly  inclined  toward  the  principle  of  equality,  but  that  can- 
not be  said,  hitherto,  of  the  general  body  of  European  socialists. 

' The  more  general  opinion  among  them  appears  to  be  that  the 
ownership  of  the  means  of  production  should  indeed  be  com- 
i munal,  but  that  the  product  should  be  apportioned  among  the 
■ workers  in  the  same  and  in  different  occupations  according  to 
the  relative  value  of  their  services,  as  if  that  could  ever  be 


INTRODUCTION. 


xvii 


satisfactorily  or  even  practically  adjusted  under  a non-competi- 
tive system. 

This  would  leave  the  individual,  as  now,  to  be  well-to-do  or 
to  want,  according  to  his  strength  or  weakness,  and  keep  alive, 
although  in  much  less  glaring  contrast,  the  economic  distinctions 
of  this  day.  Nationalists,  on  the  other  hand,  would  absolutely 
abolish  these  distinctions  and  the  possibility  of  their  again 
arising,  by  making  an  equal  provision  for  the  maintenance  of 
all  an  incident  and  an  indefeasible  condition  of  citizenship, 
without  any  regard  whatever  to  the  relative  specific  services  of 
different  citizens.  The  rendering  of  such  services,  on  the  other 
hand,  instead  of  being  left  to  the  option  of  the  citizen  with  the 
alternative  of  starvation,  would  be  required  under  a uniform 
law  as  a civic  duty,  precisely  like  other  forms  of  taxation  or 
military  service,  levied  on  the  citizen  for  the  furtherance  of  a 
common-weal  in  which  each  is  to  share  equall^  This  is  called 
nationalism,  not  in  any  narrow  tribal  sense  opp^ed  to  universal 
fraternity,  but  because  it  consists  in  applying  to  the  economic 
organization  the  idea  exemplified  in  all  national  or  public 
functions  when  undertaken  in  democratic  or  even  in  the  pro- 
gressive class  of  monarchical  States. 

All  such  public  functions  are  supported  either  by  tax  or 
personal  service,  of  the  citizens,  or  both.  The  obligation  of  that 
service  of  tax  or  person  is  enforced  by  a uniform  levy,  but  the 
amount  of  tax  or  service  rendered  under  that  levy  is  very  un- 
equal, depending  on  ability.  This  inequality  of  service  is  not, 
however,  allowed  to  prejudice  the  right  of  all  citizens  to  claim 
an  equal  benefit  from  all  national  or  public  expenditure  or 
action.  The  rule  of  the  State  in  co-ordinating  the  efforts  of  its 
members  for  any  public  purpose  is  the  equal  distribution  of 
benefits  resulting  from  necessarily  unequal  but  uniformly  levied 
contributions.  So  it  must  be  when  the  nation  assumes  the 
organization  of  industry.  The  law  of  service  must  be  uniform, 
but  the  services  rendered  will  vary  greatly  — with  many  entire 


xvill 


INTRODUCTION. 


exemptions  — according  to  the  abilities  of  the  people.  The  in- 
equality of  contributions  will  in  no  way  prejudice  the  invariable 
law  of  equal  distribution  of  the  resultant  sum. 

It  is  confidently  believed  that  all  socialists  will  ultimately  be 
led  by  the  logic  of  events  to  recognize,  as  many  now  do,  that 
the  attitude  of  the  nationalists  on  this  point  is  the  only  truly 
socialistic  one. 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY  AND  ITS  WORK. 


I 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


BY  WILLIAM  CLARKE,  M.A. 

No  visitor  to  the  British  capital  will  mingle  very  long  in  the 
political  life  of  London  before  he  will  hear  of  the  Fabian  So- 
ciety. Few  readers  have  not  heard  of  the  Roman  general, 
Quine tus  Fabius  Maximus,  qui  cunctando  restitiiit  rem^  and 
who  consequently  received  the  title  of  Cunctator.  That  illus- 
trious man  is  the  patron  saint  of  the  society,  through  which, 
being  dead,  he  yet  speaketh. 

The  Fabian  Society  proposes  then  to  conquer  by  delay ; to 
carry  its  programmes,  not  by  a hasty  rush,  but  through  the 
slower  but,  as  it  thinks,  surer  methods  of  patient  discussion,  ex- 
position, and  political  action  of  those  who  are  absolutely  con- 
vinced in  their  own  minds.  For  a convenient  motto  the  society 
has  taken  the  following  sentence  : For  the  right  moment  ^u 
must  wait,  as  Fabius  did,  most  patiently,  when  warring  against 
Hannibal,  though  many  censured  his  delays  ; Kut  wheii  the  dime 
comes  you  must  strike  T^aFTu^  did,  or^y our  waiting  will 

be  in  vain  and  fruitless.^’  TThT^  double  policy  then,  of  ^adm^; 
ancI^iS:ing^is  the  general  idea  of  the  society. 

WiiaT  bow  are  the  aims  of  the  society  ? I quote  from  the 
official  programme:  ^‘The  Fabian  Society  consists  of  Social- 
ists. It  therefore  aims  at  the  reorganization  of  society  by  the 
emancipation  of  land  and  industrial  capital  from  individual 
and  class  ownership,  and  the  vesting  of  them  in  the  community 
for  the  general  benefit.  In  this  way  only  can  the  natural  and 
acquired  advantages  of  the  country  be  equitably  shared |)y  the 
whole  people.  The  society  accordingly  works  for  thd^extinc- 
tion  of  private  property  in  land,  and  of  the  consequent  individ- 
ual appropriation,  in  the  form  of  rent,  of  the  price  paid  for 
permission  to  use  the  earth,  as  well  as  for  the  advantages  of 
superior  soils  and  sites.  The  society,  further,  works  for  the 
transfer  to  the  community  of  the  administration  of  such  indus- 
trial capital  as  can  be  managed  socially.  For,  owing  to  the 


XXll 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


monopoly  of  the  means  of  production  in  the  past,  industrial 
inventions  and  the  transformation  of  surplus  income  into  capital 
have  mainly  enriched  the  proprietary  class,  the  workers  being 
now  dependent  on  that  class  for  leave  to  earn  a living.”  To 
bring  this  condition  of  things  about,  the  programme  continues, 
the  society  looks  to  the  spread  of  Socialist  opinions,  and  it 
seeks  to  promote  these  by  the  general  dissemination  of  knowl- 
edge as  to  the  relation  between  the  individual  and  society  in  its 
economic,  ethical,  and  political  aspects. 

These,  then,  are  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the  Fabian  Society. 
Before  describing  its  growth,  work  and  personnel,  let  me  give 
an  account  and  explanation  of  its  origin.  The  effective  modern 
Socialist  movement  in  England  began  in  1881.  In  that  year  a 
conference  was  held  at  the  Westminster  Palace  Hotel  in  Lon- 
don, at  which  were  present  the  venerable  Francis  W.  Newman, 
brother  of  the  late  cardinal ; Helen  Taylor,  the  step-daughter 
of  John  Stuart  Mill ; Mr.  Hyndman,  the  Socialist  author  and 
leader ; some  men  now  in  Parliament,  others  who  have  been 
there,  and  a small  number  of  energetic  people  well  known  in 
London,  but  not  equally  well  known  in  America.  These  per- 
sons and  others  formed,  after  much  discussion,  the  Democratic 
Federation,  a body  which  at  first  appeared  to  be  nothing  more 
than  a vigorous  Radical  protest  against  the  Irish  coercive  policy 
of  the  Gladstone  Cabinet  then  in  power.  Immense  demonstra- 
tions, some  of  the  biggest  ever  held  in  London,  were  got  up  by 
the  Federation,  who  secured  the  adherence  in  this  cause  of 
some  of  the  Irish  members  of  Parliament.  But  gradually  the 
mere  Radicalism  dropped  out  of  the  Federation’s  programme; 
and  under  the  stimulating  influence  of  Mr.  Henry  George,  who 
was  then  in  England,  whose  book  was  being  read  everywhere, 
and  who  enjoyed  much  influence  then  in  England,  the  Federa- 
tion preached  the  doctrine  of  the  ^‘land  for  the  people.”  But  a 
still  further  stage  in  its  evolution  was  to  be  reached ; and  by 
the  autumn  of  1883  it  came  out  as  a full-blown  Socialist  organ- 
ization, and  published  a little  pamphlet  entitled  ‘‘  Socialism 
Made  Plain,”  which  had  a great  run  and  which,  singular  as  it 
may  seem  now,  created  a perfect  consternation  among  persons 
who  supposed  that  Socialism  was  merely  a French  or  German 
eccentricity,  due  to  militarism  and  protectionism,  and  that  it 
could  never  rear  its  head  in  “ free  ” England.  Mr.  Herbert 
S])encer,  among  others,  took  alarm  and  j^redicted  a coming 


THE  FABIAi^  SOCIETY.  xxiii 

slavery/’  and  the  venerable  Quarterly  Review  shook  its  vener- 
able head  and  marvelled,  like  Mrs.  Sarah  Gamp,  at  the  “ brajiaii 
imperence  ” of  these  wicked  agitators.  It  was  perfectly  evident 
that  a new  political  force  was  come  into  being. 

But  there  were  those  in  London  who,  sympathizing  deeply 
with  the  new  movement,  nevertheless  could  not  throw  them- 
selves heartily  into  it,  for  two  reasons : first,  it  assumed  that  a 
revolutionary  change  affecting  the  very  bases  of  society  could 
be  brought  about  all  at  once;  second,  it  appeared  to  ignore 
what  may  be  called  the  spiritual  side  of  life,  and  to  disregard 
the  ethical  changes  necessary  to  render  a different  social  system 
possible.  Such  was  the  state  of  things  in  the  autumn  of  1883, 
when  a very  able  man,  Mr.  Thomas  Davidson,  of  New  York, 
whom  all  who  have  rneet  him  know  to  be  a man  of  exceptional 
force  and  enthusiasm,  spent  some  weeks  in  London.  Mr.  David- 
son, noting  the  condition  of  things,  gathered  round  him  little 
conferences  of  men,  at  several  of  which  I was  present;  and 
while  he  was  in  London,  and  for  several  months  after,  these 
purely  informal  conferences  went  on  at  different  people’s  houses. 
It  would  be  too  long  a tale  to  tell  of  the  endless  discussions 
which  took  place,  of  the  dull  men  and  the  brilliant  men,  the 
cranks  and  the  thinkers,  the  men  with  long  hair  and  the  women 
with  short  hair,  who  debated  and  argued,  and  went  for  one 
another,  and  then  debated  and  argued  again.  The  main  upshot 
was  that  these  persons  found  themselves  ultimately  divided  into 
two  camps,  not  necessarily  hostile,  but  laying  emphasis  on  dif- 
ferent aspects  of  the  social  movement.  One  of  these  was  com- 
posed of  persons  who  laid  supreme  stress  on  the  need  for  ethical 
and  spiritual  change  as  a constant  factor  in  the  social  movement, 
and  as  a coefficient  with  the  material  changes.  These  persons 
formed  themselves  into  a little  body  called  the  New  Fellowship, 
which  still  exists,  small  in  numbers,  but  very  earnest  in  purpose, 
and  which  publishes  a small  quarterly  journal  called  Seedtime, 
The  other  class,  which  agreed  with  the  Social  Democratic  Fed- 
eration as  to  the  urgent  need  for  social  and  political  change,, 
but  thought  this  must  be  very  gradual,  and  its  leaders  persons! 
of  some  culture  and  grasp  of  economics,  formed  the  Fabian  So-1 
ciety.  This  is  the  genesis  of  this  active  body. 

There  is  a prevalent  view,  expressed  sometimes  in  American 
newspapers,  that  the  Socialist  movement  is  largely  made  up  of 
cranks  and  scoundrels  — a view  shared  in  a less  degree  by  a 


XXIV 


THE  EABIAK  SOCIETY. 


portion  of  the  English  press.  I believe  there  is  in  every  coun- 
try and  age  an  abundant  crop  of  both  these  classes  ; and  assuredly 
the  Socialist,  like  every  other  movement,  has  had  its  share  of 
both.  But  to  suppose  that  a great  movement  which  is  sweep- 
ing Europe  from  end  to  end,  which  has  given  birth  to  the 
largest  single  political  party  in  Germany,  which  has  gained 
victories  innumerable  in  France,  which  is  modifying  the  whole 
of  English  political  life  — to  suppose  that  this  movement  is  the 
outcome  of  the  delusions  of  a few  wicked  or  foolish  men,  is  it- 
self the  delusion  of  people  who  are  probably  themselves  not 
over-good  or  over-wise.  In  Marx,  Lassalle,  Rodbertus,  Malon 
and  others,  the  Socialist  movement  has  been  served  by  some  of 
the  best  brains  of  our  century ; and  it  was  no  idle  boast  of 
Lassalle  that  he  was  equipped  with  all  the  best  culture  of  his 
time.  I know  the  inside  of  the  Socialist  movement  well,  and 
it  certainly  numbers  among  its  adherents  the  ablest  men  I know. 
The  Fabian  Society  contains  not  a few  of  these  men.  Walter 
Crane,  the  artist ; Stopford  Brooke,  the  preacher  and  man  of 
letters  ; Grant  Allen,  one  of  the  most  versatile  and  accomplished 
men  living ; George  Bernard  Shaw,  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
albeit  whimsical  of  musical  and  dramatic  critics ; Miss  Willard, 
one  of  America’s  women  reformers  ; Professor  Shuttleworth, 
now  London’s  most  popular  and  able  Broad  Church  clergyman ; 
Mr.  D.  G.  Ritchie,  of  Oxford,  foremost  among  English  philoso- 
phic thinkers  ; Mrs.  Theodore  Wright,  one  of  our  most  power- 
ful actresses;  Sergius  Stepniak,  next  to  Tolstoi  the  first  of 
living  Russians ; Alfred  Hayes,  one  of  the  first  of  our  younger 
poets  ; Dr.  Furnival,  most  learned  and  active  of  old  English 
scholars,  — these  are  among  its  members. 

But  it  is  not,  of  course,  the  mere  inclusion  of  eminent  people 
that  gives  a society  force  and  authority.  It  is  the  being 
grounded  in  knowledge  and  ideas ; and  here  the  society  is 
strong.  It  was  recognized  from  the  first  by  its  members  that 
the  social  problem  cannot  be  solved  by  mere  sentiment,  though 
sentiment  must  be  a factor  in  its  solution.  There  must  be  a 
deal  of  hard  thinking  and  severe  study,  not  altogether  in  books 
(many  of  which  on  the  economic  problems  before  us  are  worth- 
less), but  in  social  facts.  Its  critics  think  the  society  has  erred 
on  the  other  side,  and  become  too  hard,  and  even  cynical ; but 
I confess  I think  that  better  than  talking  mere  gushing  moral 
platitudes  which  peiople  applaud  and  then  forget  all  about. 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


XXV 


The  society  has  always  steadily  kept  before  it  the  idea  that  we 
are  not  looking  for  any  millennium,  any  perfectly  blissful 
earthly  pai  adise,  but  that  we  are  considering  the  much  more 
prosaic  question,  how  the  economic  interests  of  society  are  to 
be  served,  how  tlie  economic  arrangements  of  society  are  to  be 
carried  on.  Hence  its  members  determined  to  e(][uip  themselves 
for  their  work  by  hard  reading  and  thinking  and  by  very  stiff 
discussion  of  the  crucial  problems  in  history,  economics  and 
political  philosophy.  To  this  end  they  were  greatly  aided  by  a 
useful  little  Historical  Society,  which  was  formed  in  one  of  the 
suburbs  of  London,  where  every  week  an  essay  was  read  and  / 
completely  discussed.  I do  not  believe  there  are  any  better  / 
read  or  more  acute  minds  in  England  than  these  of  the  young  / 
men  who  formed  this  group  and  who  have  largely  remained  the/ 
nucleus  of  the  Fabian  Society, — and  this  though  they  havq 
their  faults,  like  other  people. 

At  first  the  idea  was  to  have  a very  small  number  of  mem- 
bers, scarcely  more  than  could  be  gathered  in  a good-sized  room 
in  a private  house.  These  were  to  be  well  trained  and  to  be 
apostles.  Gradually,  however,  the  society  grew  and  grew,  the 
barriers  of  exclusion  were  broken  down,  and  persons  of  less 
knowledge  and  experience  were  brought  in.  At  the  present 
time  I think  almost  all  callings  are  represented  in  the  society. 

I find  in  the  last  list  of  members,  lawyers,  artists,  journalists, 
doctors,  workingmen,  clergymen,  teachers,  trade-union  leaders, 
literary  people,  shop-keepers  and  persons  of  no  occupation. 
There  are  no  millionnaires  in  the  society,  as  there  are  no 
paupers,  but  there  are  a few  quite  well-to-do  people.  A large 
proportion  are  bright  young  men,  and  there  are  not  a few  bright 
and  active  women.  Individual  instances  of  the  sort  of  people 
who  belong  and  what  they  do  are  better  than  mere  vague  gen- 
eralizations. Here  are  cases  : — 

A young  man  employed  in  the  Central  Post-Office  at  a salary 
of  $650  a year.  He  has  married  a very  charming  and  able  girl, 
also  a member.  They  occupy  two  or  three  rooms  in  a suburban 
house.  The  young  lady  has  been  elected  as  a guardian  of  the 
poor,  the  only  woman  among  a number  of  men.  Her  husband 
devotes  nearly  all  his  spare  time  after  office-hours  to  the  society’s 
propaganda.  He  has  had  a little  portable  desk  and  stand  made 
for  himself,  and  at  this  he  speaks  in  open  spaces  on  street 
corners  or  wherever  he  can  get  an  audience.  His  wife  accom- 


XXVI 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


paiiies  him  and  sells  literature.  Do  not  suppose  that  these  are 
a blatant  young  demagogue  and  a conventional,  strong-minded 
woman.  Both  are  educated,  intelligent,  of  sweet  disposition ; 
but  the  Socialist  movement  has  taken  hold  of  them  and  given 
them  something  they  needed,  lifted  them  above  the  region  of 
what  John  Morley  calls  greasy  domesticity,”  and  taught  them 
that  there  is  a great  suffering  world  beyond  the  four  walls  of 
home  to  be  helped  and  worked  for.  Depend  upon  it,  a move- 
ment which  can  do  this  has  in  it  some  promise  of  the  future. 

Or  take  the  amusing,  cynical,  remarkable  George  Bernard 
Shaw,  whose  Irish  humor  and  brilliant  gifts  have  partly  helped, 
partly  hindered,  the  society’s  popularity.  This  man  will  rise 
from  an  elaborate  criticism  of  last  night’s  opera  or  Richter  con- 
cert (he  is  the  musical  critic  of  the  World),  and  after  a light, 
purely  vegetarian  meal,  will  go  down  to  some  far-off  club  in 
South  London,  or  to  some  street-corner  in  East  London,  or  to 
some  recognized  place  of  meeting  in  one  of  the  parks,  and  will 
there  speak  to  poor  men  about  their  economic  position  and  their 
political  duties.  People  of  this  sort,  who  enjoy  books  and 
music  and  the  theatre  and  good  society,  do  not  go  down  to 
dreary  slums  or  even  more  dreary  lecture-rooms  to  speak  on 
such  themes  to  the  poorer  class  of  workingmen  without  some 
strong  impelling  power  ; and  it  is  that  power,  that  motive  force, 
upon  which  I dwell,  as  showing  what  is  doing  in  the  London  of 
to-day.  I am  satisfied,  from  inquiries  I have  made,  that  there 
is  really  nothing  like  this  going  on  in  any  other  country  of  the 
world ; but  it  is  a commonplace  in  London. 

The  original  parent  Fabian  Society,  after  it  began  to  expand 
and  employ  a paid  secretary  and  become  a recognized  institu- 
tion, suggested  to  people  elsewhere  that  they  might  have  local 
Fabian  Societies  ; and  the  first  of  these  were  formed  in  Birming- 
ham, where  several  of  the  members  addressed  crowded,  very  in- 
telligent and  very  enthusiastic  audiences  in  a hall  in  the  centre 
of  that  city.  Tliere  are  also  local  Fabian  Societies  now  in 
Manchester,  Edinburgh,  Bristol,  Leeds,  Newcastle,  Plymouth, 
Wolverliampton,  Bradford,  York  and  other  English  towns,  alto- 
gether forty-eight  in  number ; and  there  is  also  one  in  Adelaide, 
South  Australia,  and  another  in  Bombay.  Some  of  these  are 
quite  small,  but  others  are  important,  and  are  beginning  to 
exercise  a considerajile  influence  in  municipal  politics,  and  in 
one  or  two  places  in  Parliamentary  politics  also.  The  society 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


xxvii 


has  been  represented  at  International  Labor  Congresses  in 
Paris,  Brussels,  Ziiricli  and  Chicago. 

And  now  what  has  in  the  main  been  the  sort  of  work  the 
society  has  done  ? At  first  the  idea  of  its  members  was  rather 
to  discuss  among  themselves  and  teach  themselves  than  to  teach 
others.  This  was  the  initial  or  self-forming  stage.  Then  came 
the  educational  stage,  and,  third,  the  political  or  active  stage, 
though  even  in  this,  its  third  stage,  education  is  still  the  main 
object  of  the  society.  Fortnightly  discussions  have  been  kept 
up  continuously,  save  for  a two  months’  summer  recess,  for 
years.  At  these  members  of  the  society  read  papers,  or  out- 
siders, and  notably  opponents,  were  invited.  The  late  Charles 
Bradlaugh  came  to  oppose,  and  was  very  promptly  demolished ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  Oscar  Wilde  has  spoken  with  eloquence 
and  power  on  the  relation  of  art  and  Socialism.  The  society 
tried  to  get  Mr.  A.  J.  Balfour,  the  Conservative  leader,  and 
Mr.  W.  H.  Mallock,  as  the  ablest  literary  opponent  of  Socialism, 
to  come  and  argue  seriously,  but  neither  of  them  would  do  so. 
Mr.  Haldene,  the  translator  of  Schopenhauer  and  cultured  phil- 
osophic member  of  Parliament,  came  to  oppose,  was  handled 
rather  vigorously,  and  has  now  been  largely  converted  to  collec- 
tivism. Mr.  David  F.  Schloss,  whom  the  British  Government 
recently  sent  over  to  the  United  States  to  inquire  into  labor 
matters,  has  spoken  sympathetically ; and  Mr.  Donisthorpe,  the 
clever,  cynical,  superficial  English  individualist,  has  spoken  and 
has  been  mercilessly  handled.  The  result  of  all  this  debating 
is  that  the  Fabian  Society  has  now  some  of  the  best  debaters  in 
England.  It  has  also  some  of  the  best  lecturers,  for  it  is  in 
lectures  that  its  work  has  largely  consisted.  The  society  now 
gives  something  over  one  thousand  lectures  a year,  all  free,  the 
lecturers  being  all  unpaid.  Indeed,  excepting  the  secretary’s 
office,  the  whole  of  the  society’s  work  is  voluntary,  unpaid 
work.  The  majority  of  these  lectures  are  given  in  workmen’s 
clubs,  of  which  there  are  some  hundreds  in  London  alone.  I 
take  at  random  from  the  1891  list  of  lectures  sample  subjects  : — 

The  Socialism  of  John  Ruskin ; The  Eight  Hours’  Bill ; 
Railway  Reform;  Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity;  Methods  of 
Social  Evolution ; Adam,  the  first  and  last  Individualist ; Why 
we  want  a Labor  Party ; The  Gospel  of  getting  on  ; What  the 
Farm  Laborers  want;  The  Social  Hell  and  its  Sources;  Ex- 
periments in  Housing  the  People ; vSocialism  and  Individual 


XXVlll 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


Liberty ; the  Church’s  Message  to  Men  of  Wealth  ; Free  Com- 
ments on  the  Population  Question  ; The  Worker’s  Share  of 
Wealth ; The  Programme  of  Social  Democracy ; John  Lilburne 
and  the'  Levellers ; The  Chartist  Movement ; The  Religion  of 
Socialism ; the  Industrial  History  of  England ; Gospel  of  Bread 
and  Butter;  Workingmen  and  their  Difficulties;  Co-operative 
Production  and  Socialism;  Wealth  and  the  Commonwealth; 
The  French  Revolution;  The  Right  to  Live;  What  Socialists 
Propose  to  Do  ; Twenty  Years  of  the  Labor  Movement. 

From  these  it  will  be  seen  what  extensive  ground  is  covered. 
These  lectures  are  for  the  most  part  delivered  to  workingmen, 
but  sometimes  there  are  middle-class  audiences,  and  I have 
heard  of  Fabian  lecturers  talking  to  people  in  aristocratic  draw- 
ing-rooms. From  the  first,  the  society  has  done  some  publish- 
ing, and  the  last  list  gives  no  fewer  than  forty-five  pamphlets  or 
tracts  issued  by  the  society.  The  first  of  these,  Why  are  the 
Many  Poor  ? ” was  a crude  one,  but  good  for  rousing  attention, 
which  is  always  the  first  thing  to  be  done,  and  quite  justifying 
some  curious  Socialistic  vagaries.  The  most  valuable  of  these 
pamphlets  are  Facts  for  Socialists,”  a really  crushing  answer 
to  those  whom  Matthew  Arnold  calls  the  ^‘self-complacent 
moles,”  all  based  on  the  best  available  statistics ; “ Facts  for 
Londoners,”  an  appalling  generalization  of  the  economic  condi- 
tion of  London ; “ What  to  Read,”  a most  admirable  and  im- 
partially selected  list  of  books  for  social  reformers,  which  might 
with  advantage  be  reprinted  in  America  ; “ The  Reform  of  the 
Poor  Law  ” ; and  “ The  Impossibilities  of  Anarchism,”  a search- 
ing criticism  of  the  Anarchist  position  by  George  Bernard 
Shaw.  Remember  that  the  preparation  of  these  has  all  been 
voluntary,  unpaid  labor,  and  has  involved  an  immense  amount 
of  toil. 

In  1888  the  society  determined  to  give  a course  of  lectures 
by  those  of  its  members  who  were  supposed  to  be  best  fitted  for 
the  purpose,  setting  forth  the  general  principles  of  Socialism  as 
they  understood  them.  The  lectures  were  eight  in  number,  and 
were  delivered  to  densely  packed  audiences,  making  such  an 
impression  that  it  was  decided  to  publish  them  in  a volume ; 
and  in  the  next  year  they  appeared,  under  the  title  of  “Fabian 
Essays  in  Socialism.”  As  it  is  a case  of  quorum  pars  magna 
fui^  I am  precluded  from  giving  my  estimate  of  a volume  in 
which  I had  a share ; but  I may  say  that  this  work  has  had  a 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


XXIX 


very  great  sale — thirty  thousand  copies,  the  largest  sale  of  any 
purely  economic  work  I know  of  excepting  ‘‘  Progress  and 
Poverty,” — and  that  its  respectful  and  even  cordial  welcome 
by  the  English  press  was  a surprise.  The  fact  shows  that  the 
public  mind  is  being  prepared  for  great  social  changes.  The 
ruling  idea  of  the  book  is  that  of  inevitable  political  and  indus- 
trial evolution, — nothing  in  the  least  degree  merely  utopian, 
but  an  attempted  generalization  on  the  lines  of  modern  scientific 
ideas.  The  publication  of  this  book  first  gave  to  the  Fabian 
Society  a national  instead  of  a merely  local  reputation  ; and  I 
believe  the  book  has  now  been  widely  read  in  America  and 
Germany,  while  it  was  introduced  to  France  by  the  Revue  So- 
ciaUste,  Several  courses  of  lectures  have  since  been  given  by 
the  society,  but  none  of  them  have  been  afterwards  published. 

The  third  phase  of  the  society’s  activity  is,  as  I have  said,  in 
practical  politics.  This  was  not  undertaken  without  some  mis- 
givings. On  the  principle  that  you  cannot  touch  pitch  without 
being  defiled,  I confess  I doubted  whether,  until  the  people  had 
been  far  more  educated  in  these  ideas,  it  was  wise  to  enter  the 
somewhat  dirty  political  arena.  But  the  intense  desire  to  be 
doing  something,  to  translate  ideas  into  facts,  to  organize  the 
people,  to  help  in  shaping  the  actual  progressive  movement  in 
England,  and  above  all,  perhaps,  to  weaken  and  destroy  the 
individualist  wing  of  the  Liberal  party, — these  and  other 
motives  acted  with  cumulative  force,  especially  as  members  of 
the  society  began  to  find  that  they  had  acquired  influence  over 
little  groups  of  workmen  here  and  there.  There  were  great 
dangers  and  difficulties.  There  was  the  danger  of  falling  into 
mere  wire-pulling  and  making  of  political  deals,”  — a subject 
about  which  people  in  America  know  so  much  that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  enlarge  upon  it ; and  then  there  was  the  practical 
difficulty  of  differences  of  opinion  in  the  society,  which  might 
cause  wreck  if  political  action  were  indulged  in.  I may  say  at 
once  that  these  difficulties  remain  and  will  continue  to  do  so, 
though  they  have  not  led  to  disruption  yet.  There  are  invet- 
erate wire-pullers  in  the  society,  and  there  are  those  who  favor 
an  independent  labor  party,  those  who  want  to  permeate  the 
Radicals  and  gradually  gain  them  over ; and  there  are  even  a 
few  who,  as  between  the  two  parties,  prefer  Tories  to  Radicals. 
The  first  political  chance  for  the  Fabian  Society  came  at  the 
London  county  council  election  in  1889,  when  the  advanced 


XXX 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


party  in  London  paid  the  society  the  compliment  of  appropriat- 
ing its  entire  pamphlet,  “ The  London  Programme,”  and 
making  of  it  the  Progressive  platform  of  the  campaign.  The 
Progressives  carried  that  election,  and  they  carried  it  on  The 
London  Programme.”  Still  more  striking  was  the  Progressive 
victory  in  1892,  when  the  Moderate  or  Conservative  party  was 
almost  annihilated  at  the  polls.  The  Fabian  Society  has  sup- 
])lied  London  with  its  programme  of  reforms ; and  the  reforms 
were  in  the  direction  of  what  it  is  now  the  fashion  to  call 
municipal  Socialism.  At  the  second  county  council  election, 
several  Fabians  were  candidates,  and  four  of  them  were  actually 
elected ; while  a fifth,  Ben  Tillett,  the  labor  leader,  was  after- 
wards made  an  alderman.  Three  members  of  the  society 
proved  formidable  though  unsuccessful  candidates  at  the  Par- 
liamentary election  two  years  ago.  A considerable  number  of 
members  are  on  local  municipal  councils  and  school  boards,  and 
another  fought  a very  remarkable  Parliamentary  fight  during 
the  last  year.  So  it  is  clear  that  the  society  is  largely  en  evi- 
dence* 

As  to  the  general  programme  of  work  in  which  the  members 
are  supposed  more  or  less  to  take  part,  I may  quote  from  the 
printed  advice  given  to  members  as  to  what  they  can  do. 
First  of  all,  the  need  of  study  ” is  insisted  on.  It  is  assumed 
that  the  member  will  read  all  the  society’s  publications ; and  his 
next  duty,  it  is  urged,  should  be  to  read  the  criticisms  on  the 
other  side,  after  the  manner  of  Cicero,  who  was  always  careful 
to  get  up  his  opponent’s  case.  If  a member  cannot  read  or 
study  alone,  he  is  recommended  to  set  on  foot  a local  reading 
circle,  and  apply  to  the  secretary  for  literature  for  the  circle. 
No  public  work  should  be  done  until  this  self-education  has 
been  accomplished,  and  the  member  is  really  able  to  speak 
with  authority  and  to  deal  effectively  with  an  opponent.  The 
opponents  of  Socialism  in  England  are  usually  persons  sent  out 
by  a body  called  the  Liberty  and  Property  Defence  League,  of 
which  the  American  millionnaire,  Mr.  Astor,  now  a London 
Tory  newspaper  proprietor,  is  a member.  These  persons  have, 
as  a rule,  a remarkable  capacity  for  making  fools  of  themselves  ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  always  a tactical  blunder  to  underestimate 
the  ability  of  your  opponent,  and  Fabian  lecturers  are  advised 
to  assume  that  these  Liberty  and  Property  defenders  are 
acquainted  with  economics,  even  though  there  is  good  reason  to 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


XXXI 


suspect  they  are  not.  There  is  nothing  that  kills  like  ridicule ; 
to  gibbet  an  ignorant  and  presumptous  debater,  and  make  him 
look  like  a fool  before  a large  audience,  is  a source  of  pleasure 
to  every  rightly  constituted  mind.  Members  of  the  society  are 
also  urged  to  correspond  with  their  Parliamentary  or  municipal 
representative  on  all  vital  points,  to  worry  his  life  out  of  him  if 
he  is  obstinate  or  wrong-headed  or  dishonest,  and  to  make  liim 
yearn  like  the  poet  for  a lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness  where 
he  might  never  receive  another  letter  or  vote  of  censure  as  long 
as  he  lived.  This  is  a good  way  to  combat  what  Walt  Whit- 
man calls  the  never-ending  audacity  of  elected  persons.’’  The 
member  should  always  attend  the  local  caucus  meeting,  and  do 
what  he  can  there ; and  if  he  has  the  time  to  spare,  he  should 
be  a candidate  for  any  public  post,  such  as  member  of  Parlia- 
ment, of  county  or  municipal  council,  of  school  board,  guardian 
of  the  poor,  or  member  of  the  parish  council  ^yet  to  be  con- 
stituted. The  great  difficulty  in  the  way  of  this  is  that  these 
public  persons  are  not  paid  in  England,  and  few  of  the  busy 
and  impecunious  members  of  the  Fabian  Society  can  afford  the 
time  for  these  things. 

Having  thus  described  the  constitution,  work,  and  general 
character  of  the  Fabian  Society,  let  me  speak  on  the  general 
intellectual  forces  which  have  been  operating  in  England  to 
bring  about  this  new  political  growth  among  active  young  men ; 
for  it  is  quite  new.  My  first  acquaintance  with  anything  that 
could  properly  be  called  Socialism  in  England  was  in  London 
in  1879,  when  I went  one  evening  to  hear  a young  Jewish 
gentleman,  since  deceased,  Mr.  Montefiore,  read  a paper  on 
German  Socialism,  before  the  London  Dialectical  Society. 
Mr.  Montefiore  had  but  a slender  knowledge  of  his  subject,  and 
we  had  to  wait  for  speeches  by  a German  friend  of  Marx,  resi- 
dent in  London,  and  from  a young,  dreamy-looking  man  with 
long,  thick,  tousled  hair,  whom  I learned  was  Mr.  Ernest  Bel- 
fort Bax,  since  better  known  as  a prolific  writer  on  Socialism 
from  the  revolutionary,  Marxite  point  of  view.  At  that  time 
there  was  not  a single  young  man  in  London  interested  in  or  in 
favor  of  anything  like  Socialism,  excepting  Mr.  Bax.  Now 
there  are  hundreds.  What  are  the  reasons  for  the  change  ? 

(1)  The  exhaustion  of  the  older  Liberalism  and  the  obviously 
unsatisfactory  character  of  mere  republicanism.  And  here 
American  readers  must  permit  me  to  be  plain  by  saying  that 


XXXll 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


the  United  States  seemed  to  furnish  an  object  lesson  to  the 
world  as  to  the  failure  of  mere  republicanism  to  solve  a single 
one  of  our  social  questions.  A quarter  of  a century  ago  the 
American  Republic  was  the  guiding  star  of  advanced  English 
political  thought.  It  is  not  so  now : candor  compels  me  to  say 
that.  It  is  not  merely  a question  of  machine  politics,  of  politi- 
cal corruption,  of  the  omnipotent  party  boss ; though  supine 
Americans  who  do  nothing  to  overthrow  those  purely  political 
evils  should  be  reminded  that  Europe  as  well  as  America  is  in- 
volved in  and  has  to  pay  for  their  cowardice  and  indifference. 
But  over  and  beyond  this  is  the  great  fact  of  the  division  be- 
tween rich  and  poor,  millionnaires  at  one  end,  tramps  at  the 
other,  a growth  of  monopolies  unparalleled,  crises  producing 
abject  poverty  just  as  in  Europe.  These  facts  proved  to  men 
clearly  that  new  institutions  were  of  no  use  along  with  the  old 
forms  of  property ; that  a mere  theoretic  democracy,  unaccom- 
panied by  any  social  changes,  was  a delusion  and  a snare.  The 
result  of  this  is  that  the  old  enthusiasm  for  mere  republicanism 
has  died  away,  and  that,  though  twenty-five  years  ago  there  was 
a good  sprinkling  of  republican  clubs  in  England,  there  is  not  a 
single  one  of  them  left  now. 

(2)  The  second  cause  I take  to  be  a new  spirit  in  literature. 
The  genteel,  the  conventional,  the  thinner  kind  of  romantic 
literature  began  to  die  out ; and  the  powerful  realistic  school 
beo^an  to  attract  men’s  minds.  There  was  a desire  to  know 
things  as  they  are,  to  sound  the  plummet  in  the  sea  of  social 
misery,  to  have  done  with  make-believe  and  get  at  realities. 
The  Russian  writers,  with  their  intense  Socialistic  feeling,  at- 
tracted great  numbers  of  readers,  who  seemed  to  find  in  them 
something  entirely  new  and  immensely  powerful.  I should 
name  among  individual  writers  who  have  powerfully  aided  the 
growth,  I do  not  say  of  Socialism  itself,  but  of  the  feeling  in 
the  soil  of  which  Socialism  is  easily  developed,  Dickens,  Victor 
Hugo,  Carlyle,  Wliitman,  Ruskin,  Tolstoi,  Zola  and  Arnold. 
A curious  and  medley  list,  you  may  say,  and  so  it  is  ; but  I am 
certain  that  each  of  these  great  writers  has  contributed  a dis- 
tinct element  to  the  expansion  and  liberation  of  the  minds  that 
have  been  formed,  say,  during  the  last  twenty  years.  For 
among  all  these  writers,  varied  as  they  are,  it  is  the  social  feel- 
ing which  is  the  most  powerful  impulse. 

(3)  Along  with  the  new  literature  has  grown  a new  art  feel- 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY.  xxxiii 

ing,  an  intense  hatred  of  the  smug  and  respectable,  and  a love 
to  be  surrounded  by  attractive  objects.  Ruskiii,  Morris,  and 
Walter  Crane  have  shown  why  it  is  that  the  true  artist  is  at 
war  with  commercialism,  with  the  notion  that  things  are  to  be 
produced  for  a profit,  no  matter  what  abominations  you  may 
turn  out.  The  conception  that  no  person  has  any  right  to  in- 
flict an  ugly  object  of  any  sort  on  the  world,  especially  for  the 
sake  of  making  gain  out  of  it,  has  taken  hold  on  the  imagina- 
tive mind  of  the  younger  people  of  our  cultivated  classes. 

(4)  In  the  fourth  place,  the  old  political  economy  is  ab- 
solutely dead  in  England,  although  you  might  not  perhaps 
guess  it  from  some  of  the  English  economic  writers.  The  in- 
fluence of  German  thought  in  this,  as  in  other  departments, 
has  affected  men’s  minds.  Take  a series  of  books  like  the 
Social  Science  Series,  published  by  Sonnenschein ; half  those 
books  are  Socialistic,  — and  that  would  have  been  an  impossi- 
bility twenty  years  ago.  Of  the  Fabian  Essays  in  Socialism,” 
it  may  be  said  that  the  publisher,  as  well  as  the  Society,  reaped 
large  profits  from  it.  I mention  such  works  as  these,  rather 
than  romances  like  Morris’s  “ News  from  Nowhere,”  or 
Bellamy’s  Looking  Backward.’-  The  charm  of  Morris’s 
style  and  the  ingenuity  of  Bellamy’s  narrative  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  account  for  their  success  ; but  the  popularity  of  these 
other  works  represents  a body  of  serious  interest  in  advanced 
economics,  which  may  well  be  considered  startling  when  the 
old  hidebound  prejudices  of  orthodox  English  economics  are 
taken  into  consideration. 

(5)  Laissez-faire  individualist  political  philosophy  is  dead. 
In  vain  does  poor  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  endeavor  to  stem  the 
torrent.  His  political  ideas  are  already  as  antiquated  as  Noah’s 
ark.  I do  not  know  a single  one  of  the  younger  men  in  Eng- 
land who  is  influenced  by  them  in  the  slightest  degree,  though 
one  hears  of  one  occasionally,  just  as  one  hears  of  a freak  in  a 
dime  museum.  For  all  practical  purposes,  philosophic  Radicab 
ism,  as  it  was  called,  is  as  extinct  as  the  dodo. 

(6)  There  is  another  cause  which  cannot  be  ignored,  though 
I speak  upon  it  with  some  hesitation,  as  I purposely  avoid,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  difficult  questions  of  religion  and  the  deeper 
ethics.  I mean  that  the  old  dualism,  with  its  creed  of  other- 
worldliness, has  gone  by  the  board.  Whatever  men’s  theoreti- 
cal views  are  upon  many  transcendental  matters,  there  is  a gen- 


XXXIV 


THE  FABIAN^  SOCIETY, 


eral  feeling  now  that  the  world  is  one,  and  that  actual  life  here 
is  just  as  sacred,  normal,  good,  as  it  ever  was  or  ever  will  be  in 
any  hypothetical  past  or  future ; that  if  there  is  any  heaven 
for  us  we  have  to  make  it,  and  that  such  heaven  is  a state  of 
the  mind,  of  human  relationships,  and  not  a place  to  be  reached 
at  a definite  period  of  time.  Perhaps  I may  quote  the  eloquent 
words  of  William  Morris  in  his  “Dream  of  John  Ball”: 
“ Fellowship  is  heaven,  and  the  lack  of  fellowship  is  hell.” 
This  idea  is,  I say,  a powerful  factor  in  leading  the  minds  of 
the  younger  men  to  the  views  of  which  I am  speaking.  But 
men  are  not  altogether  influenced  by  their  theoretical  or  even 
spiritual  ideas  ; they  are  also  moved,  and  so  long  as  they  have 
material  bodies  to  be  fed  and  clothed  they  will  continue  to  be 
moved,  by  purely  self-regarding  and  economic  considerations. 
Let  us  never  be  deluded  into  supposing  that  altruistic  feelings 
alone  will  induce  men  to  make  great  social  changes ; egotistic 
considerations  will  prompt  them  as  well,  the  desire  of  self- 
preservation  working  along  with  the  desire  for  a better  and 
more  harmonious  social  order  than  exists.  It  is  not  only  upon 
the  working  classes  that  capitalist  monopoly  tells ; it  tells  also 
upon  the  educated  middle  classes  who  are  not  in  the  monopoly. 
They  find  the  avenues  of  livelihood  and  preferment  one  after 
another  closed  to  them  ; and  just  as  education  spreads,  this  will 
become  more  and  more  the  case.  When  a small  number  of 
persons  in  a large  community  are  highly  educated,  they  have 
what  economists  call  a monopoly  value ; they  can  get  a good 
price  for  their  services,  because  they  possess  something  which 
few  people  have.  Spread  this  higher  education  and  the  monop- 
oly is  broken  down.  Now,  this  is  roughly  what  is  going  on  in 
society  ; democracy  is  levelling  all  up  to  a common  level,  how- 
ever gradual  may  be  the  process ; and  consequently  highly 
educated  men  with  their  special  gifts  find  their  rates  of  re- 
muneration becoming  lower  and  lower,  unless  they  possess 
some  rare  gift  of  genius,  as  a Sara  Bernhardt  in  acting,  a 
Paderewski  in  playing,  a Stevenson  in  story-telling,  a Mascagni 
as  a composer.  These  rare  people  still  command  their  monop- 
oly value ; but  for  the  rest  it  has  disappeared.  Thus  even 
more  than  the  workingmen,  perhaps,  it  has  been  the  educated 
young  men  of  the  middle  class  (and  the  young  women,  too) 
who  have  been  hardest  hit  by  the  modern  development.  Fifty 
years  ago  you  could  have  gathered  all  the  press  writers  of  Lon- 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


XXXV 


don  into  a single  moderate-sized  room.  To-day  all  told  they 
number  nearly  ten  thousand.  Everybody  with  a pen,  ink  and 
paper  and  any  capacity  for  turning  out  copy  is  a journalist ; 
and  you  see  at  once  that  it  is  impossible  for  all  these  men  to 
earn  a living.  They  don’t,  and  can’t.  There  are  scores  of 
highly  educated  people  who  work  every  day  in  the  British 
Museum  for  eight  or  nine  hours  a day  and  earn  less  than  a 
mechanic  in  constant  occupation.  It  is  the  same  in  all  the  pro- 
fessions. Only  fifteen  per  cent  of  London  advocates  ever  get 
briefs  at  all ; the  other  eighty-five  per  cent  get  nothing.  In 
the  medical  profession  it  is  the  same.  The  prizes  go  to  about 
five  per  cent  of  the  profession  ; as  for  the  average  medical 
man  in  the  London  suburbs,  the  rates  are  so  cut  that  I am 
credibly  informed  by  one  of  them  who  studied  at  Cambridge 
and  Heidelberg,  and  on  whose  education  hundreds  of  pounds 
were  spent,  the  fee  for  attendance  and  prescription  in  his 
suburban  district  has  been  brought  down  to  twenty-five  cents. 
It  will  be  seen  that  it  is  not  a question  of  making  money  or  of 
the  disgusting  progress  towards  smug  respectability,  which  is 
known  as  “ getting  on,”  — it  is  positively  a question  of  a bare 
living.  Now,  while  a workingman  who  has  never  known  com- 
fort, whose  father  has  never  known  it  before  him,  can  often 
stand  a frightful  amount  of  poverty  without  getting  desperate, 
the  well-bred  young  man  cannot ; and  the  result  is  that  the 
keenest  and  most  dangerous  discontent  comes  from  the  educated 
classes,  who  are  leading  the  Socialist  masses  all  over  Europe. 
Some  superficial  people  think  the  remedy  is  to  be  found  in  in- 
ducing young  men  of  the  better  classes  to  abandon  the  so-called 
respectable  ” occupations  and  go  in  for  manual  labor.  Let 
them  cease,  by  all  means,  to  be  “ respectable,”  but  let  not  any 
one  lay  the  flattering  unction  to  his  soul  that  this,  under  exist- 
ing economic  conditions,  is  any  solution.  For  what  is  the 
difficulty  about  manual  labor  now?  Why,  that  thousands  of 
those  already  engaged  in  it  are  not  wanted  ; it  is  the  difficulty 
of  the  unemployed,  the  difficulty  of  over-production.  In  1886, 
according  to  the  Report  of  the  Washington  Bureau  of  Statis- 
tics, there  were  at  least  one  and  one-half  million  of  unem- 
ployed men  in  the  United  States ; and  this  state  of  things  has 
been  almost  if  not  quite  paralleled  in  1893.  In  London  lack  of 
employment  is  chronic,  and  is  growing  to  such  huge  proportions 
that  our  cowardly,  blind,  public  men  dare  not  grapple  with  it. 


XXXVl 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


In  Australia  the  unemployed  have  been  walking  the  streets  of 
Melbourne  by  the  thousand.  How  absurd  then  it  is  to  propose 
to  add  to  the  numbers  of  workingmen  when  those  already  in  the 
ranks  cannot  find  means  of  living  ! There  is  one  method,  alas, 
open  to  men,  as  there  is  always  one  method  open  to  tempted, 
poverty-stricken  women,  — the  method  of  what  I may  call  in- 
tellectual prostitution  ; and  many  there  be  that  go  in  at  that  gate. 
Sick  and  weary  of  the  penury  and  struggle  that  go  with  honesty, 
young  men  of  ability  will  deliberately  sell  themselves  to  the 
capitalist  who  has  cornered  our  intellectual  as  he  has  cornered 
our  material  production,  and  will  serve  him  for  a good  living. 
What  numbers  I have  known  choose  this  path ! — and  I cannot 
blame  them,  for  they  are  forced  into  it  by  the  conditions  of 
modern  life.  It  is  useless  preaching  fine  morals  to  them ; the 
conditions  of  life  must  be  adapted  to  human  nature  as  it  is,  for 
human  nature  will  not,  you  may  be  quite  sure,  suddenly  trans- 
form itself  to  suit  the  conditions.  These,  then,  are  the  eco- 
nomic motives  which,  combined  with  the  moral  and  intellectual 
motives  to  which  I have  previously  given  expression,  are  forc- 
ing young  men  of  education  and  good  breeding  into  the  ranks  of 
the  Socialists,  and  which  especially  operate  in  the  case  of  a 
body  like  the  Fabian  Society. 

Readers  will  be  asking  by  this  time  whether  I am  not  going?' 
to  set  forth  the  actual  political  programme  or  platform,”  as  it 
is  called  in  America,  of  the  Fabian  Society.  Yes,  that  is  just 
what  I am  going  to  do.  As  the  Fabian  Society  holds  that 
social  transformation  must  be  gradual,  unless  there  is  to  be  a 
general  smash-up,  it  proposes  a series  of  reforms  for  effecting 
the  gradual  change  of  society  into  a really  social  democratic 
state.  But  these  reforms,  it  will  be  understood,  are  adopted 
with  a distinct  end  in  view,  which  fact  makes  all  the  difference 
between  people  of  principle  and  mere  opportunists  who  have  no 
end  in  view  other  than  the  personal  end  of  lining  their  own 
pockets.  The  following,  then,  are  the  planks  of  the  Fabian 
political  platform : Adult  suffrage.  Parliamentary  and  munici- 
pal, one  vote  for  each  man  and  each  woman  of  twenty-one  and 
upwards  who  are  not  in  prison  or  in  a lunatic  asylum.  The 
second  ballot,  as  in  France,  Germany  and  Switzerland,  so  that 
whoever  is  elected  will  have  an  absolute  majority  of  the  votes 
polled.  Payment  of  members  by  the  state  and  of  election  ex- 
penses by  the  district  (it  must  be  remembered  that  at  present 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


xxxvii 


representatives  are  not  paid  in  England).  Taxation  of  un- 
earned incomes  by  such  means  as  a land  tax,  heavy  death  duties 
to  go  to  municipalities,  and  a progressive  income  tax.  Munici- 
palization of  laud  and  local  industries,  so  that  free  and  honor- 
able municipal  employment  may  be  substituted  for  private 
charity,  which,  to  vary  a well-known  line  of  Shakespeare,  is 
twice  cursed,  it  curseth  him  who  gives  and  him  who  takes. 
All  education  to  be  at  the  public  cost  for  all  classes,  including 
manual  as  well  as  book  training.  Nationalization  of  all  canals 
and  railways,  so  that  the  public  highways  may  belong  to  the 
public,  as  they  always  did  until  the  new  era  of  steam,  when 
they  got  into  the  hands  of  capitalists.  It  is  as  ridiculous  to 
pay  Mr.  Vanderbilt  if  you  happen  to  want  to  go  from  New 
York  to  Chicago  as  it  would  be  to  pay  him  if  you  desired  to 
take  a walk  down  Fifth  Avenue.  The  eight  hours  day  for 
wage-workers  in  all  government  and  municipal  offices,  in  all 
monopolies  like  coal  mines  and  railways,  and  in  all  industries 
where  the  workers  want  it.  Parish  councils  for  the  laborers, 
with  compulsory  power  to  acquire  land  to  build  dwellings,  to 
administer  schools  and  charities,  and  to  engage  in  co-operative 
farming.  ^ 

Such  is  the  programme  through  the  adoption  of  which  the 
Fabian  Society  believes  that  the  country  once  called  merry 
England,”  but  the  greater  portion  of  which  is  now  dreary  and 
sordid  and  cursed  with  poverty,  might  again  be  really  happy 
and  be  converted  into  a land  of  real  and  not  of  sham  freedom. 
And  now  a word,  in  conclusion,  on  an  important  point,  — the 
relation  of  the  intellectual  proletariat,  as  it  has  been  called,  to 
the  masses,  of  the  educated  young  men  to  the  bulk  of  the  work- 
ing classes.  Most  of  the  members  of  the  Fabian  Society  are 
educated,  middle-class  people,  though  there  are  workingmen 
connected  with  it  also.  What  is  to  be  the  relation  of  these 
educated  middle-class  people  to  the  swarming  multitudes  of 
workers  ? This  is  a vital  social  question,  the  most  vital  we 
have  immediately  before  us.  One  remembers  what  Matthew 
Arnold  said  in  America,  — that  the  salvation  of  modern  society 
lay  in  the  hands  of  a remnant.  I should  be  inclined  to  put  it 
rather  differently,  and  to  say  that,  if  the  social  evolution  is  to 
be  peaceful  and  rational,  it  must  be  effected  by  the  union  of  a 
cultivated  remnant  with  the  masses  of  the  toiling  people. 
American  optimism  may  chafe  at  the  little  word  “If.”  Can 


xxxviii 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


there  be  any  doubt,  you  may  ask,  that  we  shall  go  on  prosper- 
ously and  peacefully  ? I reply,  yes,  there  is  quite  good  enough 
ground  for  doubting  this.  As  Mr.  Pearson,  the  author  of  that 
remarkable  book  on  National  Life  and  Character,”  which 
has  impressed  us  in  England  very  deeply,  has  said,  ancient 
civilization  in  the  times  of  the  Antonin es  seemed  as  firm  and 
strong  as  does  ours,  nay,  stronger,  for  it  had,  in  the  main,  lasted 
as  many  centuries  as  ours  has  lasted  decades. 

Stout  was  its  arm,  each  nerve  and  bone 

Seemed  puissant  and  alive. 

Had  you  predicted  then  to  a Roman  senator  that  the  splendid 
Greco-Roman  cities  would  be  given  to  the  flames,  and  that  the 
Roman  Senate  and  legions  would  be  trampled  down  by  ignorant 
hordes  of  barbarians,  he  would  have  smiled,  offered  you  another 
cup  of  Falernian  wine,  and  changed  the  subject.  Yet  we  know 
this  happened ; and  I confess  I can  see  nothing  in  our  mush- 
room civilization  which  we  have  any  particular  right  to  regard 
as  inherently  more  enduring  than  the  elaborate  and  stately 
organism  of  Roman  jurisprudence.  But  there  are  no  bar- 
barians! Yes,  there  are;  but  they  are  not  outside  us, — 
they  are  in  our  midst.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  grim  victim  of 
crushing  poverty  in  a London  attic  or  a Berlin  cellar  cares  one 
pin’s  head  for  all  the  heritage  of  the  world’s  thought  which  ap- 
peals to  the  highly  educated  ? How  are  these  huge  masses  of 
poor  people  to  be  welded  into  a great  phalanx,  to  be  induced  to 
subordinate  their  passions  to  the  demands  of  reason,  to  look  not 
merely  at  the  needs  of  the  moment,  but  at  those  of  next  year, 
to  realize  that  the  world  cannot  be  remade  in  a day,  but  yet 
that  it  can  be  so  reconstituted  as  to  give  all  opportunities  to 
live  as  human  beings  should  ? Silly  people  are  always  talking 
nonsense  about  the  danger  of  ‘‘agitators.”  I know  all  about 
agitators.  I know  nearly  every  prominent  agitator  in  Great 
Britain ; and  I can  say  confidently  that  it  is  the  agitators  who 
have  to  hold  back,  to  restrain  the  people  from  rash  and  even 
mad  action.  The  record  of  every  English  strike  would  show 
that  this  was  the  case.  If  all  the  labor  leaders  and  agitators 
were  silenced,  it  would  be  the  very  worst  thing  that  could  befall 
the  capitalist  class.  The  masses  are  at  present,  at  the  very 
best,  an  army  of  privates  without  officers.  This  is  not  their 
fault ; it  is  their  misfortune.  They  have  not  had  the  training. 


THE  FABIAN  SOCIETY. 


XXXIX 


the  culture,  which  enables  them  to  meet  rich  men  and  their 
agents  on  equal  ground.  An  English  statesman,  whose  name 
is  known  the  world  over,  said  privately  to  me  not  long  ago : 

“ The  labor  men  here  in  the  House  of  Commons  are  all  good 
fellows,  but  they  are  no  use  as  leaders ; the  principal  men  of 
either  party  can  twist  them  round  their  fingers  with  the  greatest 
ease.  If  the  labor  movement  is  to  be  a success,  it  must  be  led 
by  educated  men.”  I believe  that  verdict  of  one  of  the  ablest 
and  best-informed  public  men  now  living  to  be  true.  To  what, 
does  it  point?  To  the  union  of  culture  with  labor,  to  reform 
this  badly-jointed  system.  Only,  be  it  observed,  it  must  be 
union  on  equal  terms.  There  must  be  no  lofty  condescension 
on  the  part  of  culture  any  more  than  base  truckling  on  the  part: 
of  labor.  It  must  be  an  equal  copartnership,  where  each 
partner  recognizes  that  the  other  has  something  which  he  needs./', 
And  let  me  say,  as  one  who  knows  workmen,  that,  in  a certain!  j 
and  very  real  way,  culture  has  as  much  to  learn  from  labor  as  I 
labor  from  culture.  Let  the  cultured  man  approach  the  labor- 
ing man  on  perfectly  equal  terms,  in  a cordial  and  open  way ; 
and  let  both  unite  to  deliver  a groaning  world  from  the  bondage 
of  riches.  English  experience  shows  that  this  can  be  done ; and 
this  idea  is  to  a very  great  degree  the  zdee  mere  of  the  Fabian 
Society,  whose  members  have  no  higher  ambition  than  to  mingle 
freely  with  the  workmen  and  share  in  the  common  life.  By 
this  means  the  hatred  and  suspicion  felt  by  the  French  and 
German  workmen  towards  any  one  who  wears  a black  coat  is 
eliminated,  and  both  labor  and  culture  gain  in  breadth,  knowl- 
edge and  sympathy,  and  the  cause  of  rational  progress  is  ren- 
dered more  secure.  Walt  Whitman  has  told  us,  in  Leaves  of 
Grass,”  how  he  went  “freely  with  powerful,  uneducated  per- 
sons,” — a gospel  which  Mr.  John  Addington  Symonds,  in  his 
essay  on  Whitman,  tells  us,  saved  him  from  being  a prig.  And 
this  gospel  of  free  intercourse  with  the  so-called  “common 
people,”  who  are  neither  saints  nor  great  sinners,  but  real  men, 
more  real  than  the  conventional  middle-class  man  can  ever 
afford  to  be,  is  the  healthiest,  best  advice  which  I can  give  to 
cultivated  men. 


THE  FABIAN  ESSAYS. 


PREFACE. 


The  essays  in  this  volume  were  prepared  last  year  as 
a course  of  lectures  for  delivery  before  mixed  audiences 
in  London  and  the  provinces.  They  have  been  revised 
for  publication,  but  not  recast.  The  matter  is  put,  not 
as  an  author  would  put  it  to  a student,  but  as  a speaker 
with  only  an  hour  at  his  disposal  has  to  put  it  to  an 
audience.  Country  readers  may  accept  the  book  as  a 
sample  of  the  propaganda  carried  on  by  volunteer  lect- 
urers in  the  workmen’s  clubs  and  political  associations 
of  London.!  Metropolitan  readers  will  have  the  advan- 
tage of  making  themselves  independent  of  the  press 
critic  by  getting  face  to  face  with  the  writers,  stripping 
the  veil  of  print  from  their  personality,  cross-examining, 
criticising,  calling  them  to  account  amid  surroundings 
which  inspire  no  awe,  and  before  the  most  patient  of 
audiences.  For  any  Sunday  paper  which  contains  a lect- 
ure list  will  shew  where  some,  if  not  all,  of  the  seven 
essayists  may  be  heard  for  nothing;  and  on  all  such 
occasions  questions  and  discussion  form  part  of  the  pro- 
cedure. 

1 In  the  year  ending  April,  1889,  the  number  of  lectures  delivered 
by  members  of  the  Fabian  Society  alone  was  upwards  of  700. 


xliv 


PREFACE. 


The  projection  and  co-ordination  of  these  lectures  is 
not  the  work  of  any  individual.  The  nominal  editor  is 
only  the  member  told  off  to  arrange  for  the  publication 
of  the  papers,  and  see  them  through  the  press  with  what- 
ever editorial  ceremony  might  be  necessary.  Everything 
that  is  usually  implied  by  the  authorship  and  editing  of 
a book  has  in  this  case  been  done  by  the  seven  essayists, 
associated  as  the  Executive  Council  of  the  Fabian  Soci- 
ety; and  not  one  of  the  essays  could  be  what  it  is  had 
the  writer  been  a stranger  to  his  six  colleagues  and  to 
the  Society.  But  there  has  been  no  sacrifice  of  individ- 
uality — no  attempt  to  cut  out  every  phrase  and  opinion 
the  responsibility  for  which  would  not  be  accepted  by 
every  one  of  the  seven.  Had  the  sections  been  differ- 
ently allotted,  they  would  have  been  differently  treated, 
though  the  net  result  would  probably  have  been  the 
same.  The  writers  are  all  Social  Democrats,  with  a 
common  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  vesting  the  or- 
ganization of  industry  and  the  material  of  production  in 
a State  identified  with  the  whole  people  by  complete 
Democracy.  But  that  conviction  is  peculiar  to  no  indi- 
vidual bias  : it  is  a Capitol  to  which  all  roads  lead ; and 
at  least  seven  of  them  are  represented  in  these  Fabian 
Essays  ; so  that  the  reader  need  not  fear  oppression  here, 
any  more  than  in  the  socialized  State  of  the  future,  by 
the  ascendancy  of  one  particular  cast  of  mind. 

There  are  at  present  no  authoritative  teachers  of  So- 
cialism. The  essayists  make  no  claim  to  be  more  than 
communicative  learners. 


London,  December,  1889. 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


/■ 


ECONOMIC, 


BY  G.  BERNARD  SHAW. 

All  economic  analyses  begin  with  the  cultivation  of  the  earth. 
To  the  mind’s  eye  of  the  astronomer,  the  earth  is  a ball  spinning 
in  space  without  ulterior  motives.  To  the  bodily  eye  of  the 
primitive  cultivator  it  is  a vast  green  plain,  from  which,  by 
sticking  a spade  into  it,  wheat  and  other  edible  matters  can  be 
made  to  spring.  To  the  eye  of  the  sophisticated  city  man,  this 
vast  green  plain  appears  rather  as  a great  gaming-table,  your 
chances  in  the  game  depending  cliiefly  on  the  place  where  you 
deposit  your  stakes.  To  the  economist,  again,  the  green  plain 
is  a sort  of  burial-place  of  hidden  treasure,  where  all  the 
forethought  and  industry  of  man  are  set  at  naught  by  the 
caprice  of  the  power  which  hid  the  treasure.  The  wise  and 
patient  workman  strikes  his  spade  in  here,  and  with  heavy  toil 
can  discover  nothing  but  a poor  quality  of  barley,  some  potatoes 
and  plentiful  nettles,  with  a few  dock  leaves  to  cure  his  stings. 
The  foolish  spendthrift  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  gazing 
idly  at  the  sand  glittering  in  the  sun,  suddenly  realizes  that  the 
earth  is  offering  him  gold  — is  dancing  it  before  his  listless  eyes 
lest  it  should  escape  him.  Another  man,  searching  for  some 
more  of  this  tempting  gold,  comes  upon  a great  hoard  of  coal, 
or  taps  a jet  of  petroleum.  Thus  is  Man  mocked  by  Earth, 
his  step-mother,  and  never  knows  as  he  tugs  at  her  closed  hand 
whether  it  contains  diamonds  or  flints,  good  red  wheat  or  a few 
clayey  and  blighted  cabbages.  Thus,  too,  he  becomes  a gam- 
bler, and  scoffs  at  the  theorists  who  prate  of  industry  and 
honesty  and  equality.  Yet  against  this  fate  he  eternally  rebels. 
For  since  in  gambling  the  many  must  lose  in  order  that  the  few 
may  win ; since  dishonesty  is  mere  shadow-grasping  wdiere 
every  one  is  dishonest ; and  since  inequality  is  bitter  to  all  ex- 
cept the  highest,  and  miserably  lonely  for  him,  men  come 


2 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


greatly  to  desire  that  these  capricious  gifts  of  Nature  might  be 
intercepted  by  some  agency  having  the  power  and  the  good-will 
to  distribute  them  justly  according  to  the  labor  done  by  each  in 
the  collective  search  for  them.  This  desire  is  Socialism ; and, 
as  a means  to  its  fulfilment,  Socialists  have  devised  communes, 
kingdoms,  principalities,  churches,  manors,  and  finally,  when  all 
these  had  succumbed  to  the  old  gambling  spirit,  the  Social 
Democratic  State,  which  yet  remains  to  be  tried.  As  against 
Socialism,  the  gambling  spirit  urges  man  to  allow  no  rival  to 
come  between  his  private  individual  powers  and  Step-mother 
Earth,  but  rather  to  secure  some  acres  of  her  and  take  his 
chance  of  getting  diamonds  instead  of  cabbages.  This  is  Pri- 
vate Property,  or  Unsocialism.  Our  own  choice  is  shewn  by 
our  continual  aspiration  to  possess  property,  our  common  hail- 
ing of  it  as  sacred,  our  setting  apart  of  the  word  Respectable 
for  those  who  have  attained  it,  our  ascription  of  pre-eminent 
religiousness  to  commandments  forbidding  its  violation,  and  our 
identification  of  law  and  order  among  men  with  its  protection. 
Therefore  is  it  vital  to  a living  knowledge  of  our  society  that 
Private  Property  should  be  known  in  every  step  of  its  progress 
from  its  source  in  cupidity  to  its  end  in  confusion. 

Let  us,  in  the  manner  of  the  Political  Economist,  trace  the 
effects  of  settling  a country  by  private  property  wdth  undisturbed 
law  and  order.  Figure  to  yourself  the  vast  green  plain  of  a 
country  virgin  to  the  spade,  awaiting  the  advent  of  man. 
Imagine  then  the  arrival  of  the  first  colonist,  the  original 
Adam,  developed  by  centuries  of  civilization  into  an  Adam 
Smith,  prospecting  for  an  suitable  patch  of  Private  Property. 
Adam  is,  as  Political  Economy  fundamentally  assumes  him  to 
be,  ‘‘on  the  make”;  therefore  he  drives  his  spade  into,  and 
sets  up  his  stockade  around,  the  most  fertile  and  favorably  situ- 
ated patch  he  can  find.  When  he  has  tilled  it.  Political  Econ- 
omy inspired  to  prophesy  by  the  spectacle,  metaphorically  exhibits 
Adam’s  little  patch  of  cultivation  as  a pool  that  will  yet  rise 
and  submerge  the  whole  land.  Let  us  not  forget  this  trope : it 
is  the  key  to  the  ever-recurring  phrase,  “ margin  of  cultivation,” 
in  wliich,  as  may  now  be  perceived,  there  lurks  a little  unsus- 
pected poetry.  And  truly  the  pool  soon  spreads.  Other  Adams 
come,  all  on  the  make,  and  therefore  all  sure  to  pre-empt  patches 
as  near  as  may  be  to  that  of  the  first  Adam’s,  jiartly  because  he 
has  chosen  the  best  situation,  partly  for  the  pleasure  of  his  so- 


ECONOMIC. 


3 


ciety  and  conversation,  and  partly  because  where  two  men  are 
assembled  together  there  is  a two-man  power  that  is  far  more 
than  double  one-man  power,  being  indeed  in  some  instances  a 
quite  new  force,  totally  destructive  of  the  idiotic  general  hypo- 
thesis that  society  is  no  more  than  the  sum  of  the  units  which 
compose  it.  These  Adams,  too,  bring  their  Cains  and  Abels, 
who  do  not  murder  one  another,  but  merely  pre-empt  adjacent 
patches.  And  so  the  pool  rises,  and  the  margin  spreads  more 
and  more  remote  from  the  centre,  until  the  pool  becomes  a lake, 
and  the  lake  an  inland  sea. 


Rent. 

But  in  the  course  of  this  inundation  the  caprices  of  Nature 
begin  to  operate.  That  specially  fertile  region  upon  which 
Adam  pitched  is  sooner  or  later  all  pre-empted ; and  there  is 
nothing  for  the  new-comer  to  pre-empt  save  soil  of  the  second 
quality.  Again,  division  of  labor  sets  in  among  Adam’s  neigh- 
bors ; and  with  it,  of  course,  comes  the  establishment  of  a 
market  for  the  exchange  of  the  products  of  their  divided  labor. 
Now  it  is  not  well  to  be  far  afield  from  that  market,  because 
distance  from  it  involves  extra  cost  for  roads,  beasts  of  burden, 
time  consumed  in  travelling  thither  and  back  again.  All  this 
will  be  saved  to  Adam  at  the  centre  of  cultivation,  and  incurred 
by  the  new-comer  at  the  margin  of  cultivation.  Let  us  estimate 
the  annual  value  of  Adam’s  produce  at  £1,000,  and  the  annual 
produce  of  the  new-comer’s  land  on  the  margin  of  cultivation  at 
£500,  assuming  that  Adam  and  the  new-comer  are  equally  in- 
dustrious. Here  is  a clear  advantage  of  £500  a year  to  the 
first  comer.  This  £500  is  economic  rent.  It  matters  not  at 
all  that  it  is  merely  a difference  of  income,  and  not  an  overt 
payment  from  a tenant  to  a landlord.  The  two  men  labor 
equally ; and  yet  one  gets  £500  a year  more  than  the  other 
through  the  superior  fertility  of  his  land  and  convenience  of 
its  situation.  The  excess  due  to  that  fertility  is  rent;  and 
before  long  we  shall  find  it  recognized  as  such  and  paid  in  the 
fashion  with  which  we  are  familiar.  For  why  should  not  Adam 
let  his  patch  to  the  new-comer  at  a rent  of  £500  a year  ? Since 
the  produce  will  be  £1,000,  the  new-comer  will  have  £500  left 
for  himself,  or  as  much  as  he  could  obtain  by  cultivating  a 
patch  of  his  own  at  the  margin ; and  it  is  pleasanter,  besides,  to 
be  in  the  centre  of  society  than  on  the  outskirts  of  it.  The 


4 


THE  BASIS  OP  SOCIALISM. 


new-comer  will  himself  propose  the  arrangement ; and  Adam 
may  retire  as  an  idle  landlord  with  a perpetual  pension  of  £500 
rent.  The  excess  of  fertility  in  Adam’s  land  is  thenceforth 
recognized  as  rent  and  paid,  as  it  is  to-day,  regularly  by  a 
worker  to  a drone.  A few  samples  of  the  way  in  which  this 
simple  and  intelligible  transaction  is  stated  by  our  economists 
may  now,  I hope,  be  quoted  without  any  danger  of  their  prov- 
ing so  difficult  as  they  appear  in  the  text-books  from  which  I 
have  copied  them. 

Stuart  Mill  ^ says  that  the  rent  of  land  consists  of  the  excess 
of  its  return  above  the  return  to  the  worst  land  in  cultivation.” 
Fawcett^  says  that  “the  rent  of  land  represents  the  pecuniary 
value  of  the  advantages  which  such  land  possesses  over  the 
worst  land  in  cultivation.”  Professor  Marshall®  says  that 
“ the  rent  of  a piece  of  land  is  the  excess  of  its  produce  over 
the  produce  of  an  adjacent  piece  of  land  which  would  not  be 
cultivated  at  all  if  rent  were  paid  for  it.”  Professor  Sidgwick  ^ 
cautiously  puts  it  that  “ the  normal  rent  per  acre  of  any  piece  ” 
[of  land]  “ is  the  surplus  of  the  value  of  its  produce  over  the  value 
of  the  net  produce  per  acre  of  the  least  advantageous  land  that  it  is 
profitable  to  cultivate.”  General  Walker  ® declares  that  “ speci- 
fically, the  rent  of  any  piece  of  land  is  determined  by  the  differ- 
ence between  its  annual  yield  and  that  of  the  least  productive 
land  actually  cultivated  for  the  supply  of  the  same  market,  it 
being  assumed  that  the  quality  of  the  land  as  a productive  agent 
is,  in  neither  case,  impaired  or  improved  by  such  cultivation.” 
All  these  definitions  are  offered  by  the  authors  as  elaborations  of 
that  given  by  their  master  Ricardo,®  who  says,  “ Rent  is  that 
portion  of  the  produce  of  the  earth  which  is  paid  to  the  landlord 
for  the  use  of  the  original  and  indestructible  powers  of  the  soil.” 

The  County  Family. 

Let  us  return  to  our  ideal  country.  Adam  is  retiring  from 
productive  industry  on  £500  a year ; and  his  neighbors  are  has- 

1 Principles  of  Political  Economy,’’  Yol.  I,  Index  to  chap,  xvi 
(18fi5). 

“ Manual  of  Political  Economy,”  Book  II,  chap,  hi,  p.  116  (1876). 

3 ‘‘  Economics  of  Industry,”  Book  11,  chap,  iii,  sec.  3,  p.  84  (1879). 

^ “ Principles  of  Political  Economy,”  Book  II,  chap,  vii,  p.  301  (1883). 

^ “Brief  Text-book  of  Political  Economy,”  chap,  ii,  sec.  216,  p.  173 
(1885). 

G “ Principles  of  Political  Economy  and  Taxation,”  chap.  ii.  p.  34 
(1817). 


ECONOMIC. 


5 


tening  to  imitate  him  as  fresh  tenants  present  themselves.  Tlie 
first  result  is  the  beginning  of  a tradition  that  the  oldest  fami- 
lies in  the  country  enjoy  a superior  position  to  the  rest,  and 
that  the  main  advantage  of  their  superior  position  is  that  they 
enjoy  incomes  without  working.  Nevertheless,  since  they  still 
depend  on  their  tenants’  labor  for  their  subsistence,  they  continue 
to  pay  Labor,  with  a capital  L,  a certain  meed  of  mouth  honor ; 
and  the  resultant  association  of  prosperity  with  idleness,  and 
praise  with  industry,  practically  destroys  morality  by  setting  up 
that  incompatibility  between  conduct  and  principle  which  is  the 
secret  of  the  ingrained  cynicism  of  our  own  time,  and  which 
produces  the  curious  Ricardian  phenomenon  of  the  man  of 
business  who  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church  with  the  regularity 
of  the  village  blacksmith,  there  to  renounce  and  abjure  before 
his  God  the  line  of  conduct  which  he  intends  to  pursue  with  all 
his  might  during  the  following  week. 

According  to  our  hypothesis,  the  inland  sea  of  cultivation 
has  now  spread  into  the  wilderness  so  far  that  at  its  margin 
the  return  to  a man’s  labor  for  a year  is  only  £500.  But  as 
there  is  always  a flood-tide  in  that  sea,  caused  by  the  incessant 
increase  of  population,  the  margin  will  not  stop  there ; it  will 
at  last  encroach  upon  every  acre  of  cultivable  land,  rising  to 
the  snow  line  on  the  mountains  and  falling  to  the  coast  of  the 
actual  salt  water  sea,  but  always  reaching  the  barrenest  places 
last  of  all,  because  the  cultivators  are  still,  as  ever,  on  the 
make,  and  will  not  break  bad  land  when  better  is  to  be  had. 
But  suppose  that  now,  at  last,  the  uttermost  belt  of  free  land  is 
reached,  and  that  upon  it  the  yield  to  a man’s  year’s  labor  is 
only  £100.  Clearly  now  the  rent  of  Adam’s  primeval  patch 
has  risen  to  £900,  since  that  is  the  excess  of  its  produce  over 
what  is  by  this  time  all  that  is  to  be  had  rent  free.  But  Adam 
has  yielded  up  his  land  for  £500  a year  to  a tenant.  It  is  this 
tenant  accordingly  who  now  lets  Adam’s  patch  for  £900  a year 
to  the  new  comer,  who  of  course  loses  nothing  by  the  bargain, 
since  it  leaves  him  the  £100  a year  with  which  he  must  be  con- 
tent anyhow.  Accordingly  he  labors  on  Adam’s  land;  raises 
£1,000  a year  from  it;  keeps  £100  and  pays  £900  to  Adam’s 
tenant,  who  pays  £500  to  Adam,  keeping  £400  for  himself, 
and  thus  also  becoming  an  idle  gentleman,  though  with  a some- 
what smaller  income  than  the  man  of  older  family.  It  has,  in 
fact,  come  to  this,  that  the  private  property  in  Adam’s  land  is 


6 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


divided  between  three  men,  the  first  doing  none  of  the  work 
and  getting  half  the  produce ; the  second  doing  none  of  the 
work  and  getting  two-fifths  of  the  produce ; and  the  third  doing 
all  the  work  and  getting  only  one-tenth  of  the  produce.  Inch 
dentally  also,  the  moralist  who  is  sure  to  have  been  prating 
somewhere  about  private  property  leading  to  the  encourage- 
ment of  industry,  the  establishment  of  a healthy  incentive,  and 
the  distribution  of  wealth  according  to  exertion,  is  exposed  as  a 
futile  purblind  person,  starting  a ^priori  from  blank  ignorance, 
and  proceeding  deductively  to  mere  contradiction  and  patent  folly. 

All  this,  however,  is  a mere  trifle  compared  to  the  sequel. 
When  the  inland  sea  has  risen  to  its  confines  — when  there  is 
nothing  but  a strip  of  sand  round  the  coast  between  the  furrow 
and  the  wave  — when  the  very  waves  themselves  are  cultivated 
by  fisherfolk  — when  the  pastures  and  timber  forests  have 
touched  the  snow  line  — when,  in  short,  the  land  is  all  private 
property,  yet  every  man  is  a proprietor,  though  it  may  be  only 
of  a tenant  right.  He  enjoys  fixity  of  tenure  at  what  is  called 
a fair  rent ; that  is,  he  fares  as  well  as  he  could  on  land  wholly 
his  own.  All  the  rent  is  economic  rent ; the  landlord  cannot 
raise  it  nor  the  tenant  lower  it ; it  is  fixed  naturally  by  the 
difference  between  the  fertility  of  the  land  for  which  it  is  paid 
and  that  of  the  worst  land  in  the  country.  Compared  with  the 
world  as  we  know  it,  such  a state  of  things  is  freedom  and  hap- 
piness. 

The  Proletariat. 

But  at  this  point  there  appears  in  the  land  a man  in  a 
strange  plight  — one  who  wanders  from  snow  line  to  sea  coast 
in  search  of  land,  and  finds  none  that  is  not  the  property  of 
some  one  else.  Private  property  had  forgotten  this  man.  On 
the  roads  he  is  a vagrant ; off  them  he  is  a trespasser ; he  is 
the  first  disinherited  son  of  Adam,  the  first  proletarian,  one  in 
whose  seed  all  the  generations  of  the  earth  shall  yet  be  blest, 
but  who  is  himself  for  the  present  foodless,  homeless,  shiftless, 
superfluous,  and  everything  that  turns  a man  into  a tramp  or  a 
thrall.  Yet  he  is  still  a man  with  brain  and  muscle,  able  to  de- 
vise and  execute,  able  to  deal  puissantly  with  land  if  he  only 
could  get  access  to  it.  But  how  to  get  that  access ! Necessity 
is  the  mother  of  Invention.  It  may  be  that  this  second  Adam, 
the  first  father  of  the  great  proletariat,  has  one  of  those  scarce 


ECOKOMIC. 


7 


brains  wliicli  arc  not  the  least  of  Nature’s  capricious  gifts.  If 
the  fertile  field  yields  rent,  why  not  the  fertile  brain  ? Here  is 
the  first  Adam’s  patch  still  yielding  its  £1,000  a year  to  the 
labor  of  the  tenant  who,  as  we  have  seen,  has  to  pay  £900 
away  in  rent.  How  if  tlie  proletarian  were  boldly  to  bid 
£1,000  a year  to  that  man  for  the  property?  Apparently  the 
result  would  be  the  starvation  of  the  proletarian,  since  he 
would  have  to  part  with  all  the  produce.  But  what  if  the 
proletarian  can  contrive  — invent  — anticipate  a new  want  — 
turn  the  land  to  some  hitherto  undreamt-of  use  — wrest  £1,500 
a year  from  the  soil  and  site  that  only  yielded  £1,000  before  ? 
If  he  can  do  this,  he  can  pay  the  full  £1,000  rent,  and  have  an 
income  of  £500  left  for  himself.  This  is  his  profit — the  rent 
of  his  ability  ■ — the  excess  of  its  produce  over  that  of  ordinary 
stupidity.  Here  then  is  the  opportunity  of  the  cunning  prole- 
tarian, the  hero  of  that  modern  Plutarch,  Mr.  Samuel  Smiles. 
Truly,  as  Napoleon  said,  the  career  is  open  to  the  talented. 
But  alas ! the  social  question  is  no  more  a question  of  the  fate 
of  the  talented  than  of  the  idiotic.  In  due  replenishment  of  the 
earth  there  comes  another  proletarian  who  is  no  cleverer  than 
other  men,  and  can  do  as  much,  but  not  more  than  they.  For 
him  there  is  no  rent  of  ability.  How  then  is  he  to  get  a tenant 
right  ? Let  us  see.  It  is  certain  that  by  this  time  not  only 
will  the  new  devices  of  the  renter  of  ability  have  been  copied 
by  people  incapable  of  inventing  them ; but  division  of  labor, 
the  use  of  tools  and  money,  and  the  economies  of  civilization 
will  have  greatly  increased  man’s  power  of  extracting  wealth 
from  Nature.  All  this  increase  will  be  so  much  gain  to  the 
holder  of  a tenant  right,  since  his  rent  is  a fixed  payment  out 
of  the  produce  of  his  holding,  and  the  balance  is  his  own. 
Therefore  an  addition  to  the  produce  not  foreseen  by  the  land- 
lord enriches  the  tenant.  So  that  it  may  well  be  that  tlie 
produce  of  land  on  the  margin  of  cultivation,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  fixes  the  produce  left  to  the  cultivators  throughout  the 
whole  area,  may  rise  considerably.  Suppose  the  yield  to  have 
doubled;  then  our  old  friends  who  paid  £900  rent,  and  kept 
£100  for  themselves,  have  now,  though  they  still  pay  £900 
rent,  £1,100  for  themselves,  the  total  produce  having  risen  to 
£2,000.  Now  here  is  an  opportunity  for  our  proletarian  who 
is  not  clever.  He  can  very  well  offer  to  cultivate  the  land 
subject  to  a payment  of,  for  instance,  £1,600  a year,  leaving 


8 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


himself  £400  a year.  This  will  enable  the  last  holder  of  the 
tenant  right  to  retire  as  an  idle  gentleman  receiving  a net  in- 
come of  £700  a year,  and  a gross  income  of  £1,G00,  out  of 
which  he  pays  £900  a year  rent  to  a landlord  who  again  pays 
to  the  head  landlord  £500.  But  it  is  to  be  marked  that  this 
£700  a year  net  is  not  economic  rent.  It  is  not  the  difference 
between  the  best  and  the  worst  land.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  margin  of  cultivation.  It  is  a payment  for  the  privi- 
lege of  using  land  at  all  — for  access  to  that  which  is  now  a 
close  monopoly ; and  its  amount  is  regulated,  not  by  what  the 
purchaser  could  do  for  himself  on  land  of  his  own  at  the  mar- 
gin, but  simply  by  the  landholder’s  eagerness  to  be  idle  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  proletarian’s  need  of  subsistence  on  the 
other.  In  current  economic  terms  the  price  is  regulated  by 
supply  and  demand.  As  the  demand  for  land  intensities  by  the 
advent  of  fresh  proletarians,  the  price  goes  up ; and  the  bar- 
gains are  made  more  stringent.  Tenant  rights,  instead  of 
being  granted  in  perpetuity,  and  so  securing  for  ever  to  the 
tenant  the  increase  due  to  unforeseen  improvements  in  produc- 
tion, are  granted  on  leases  for  finite  terms,  at  the  expiration  of 
which  the  landlord  can  revise  the  terms  or  eject  the  tenant. 
The  payments  rise  until  the  original  head  rents  and  quit  rents 
appear  insignificant  in  comparison  with  the  incomes  reaped  by 
the  intermediate  tenant  right  holders  or  middlemen.  Sooner  or 
later  the  price  of  tenant  right  will  rise  so  high  that  the  actual 
cultivator  will  get  no  more  of  the  produce  than  suffices  him  for 
subsistence.  At  that  point  there  is  an  end  of  sub-letting  tenant 
rights.  The  land’s  absorption  of  the  proletarians  as  tenants 
paying  more  than  the  economic  rent  stops. 

And  now  what  is  the  next  proletarian  to  do  ? For  all  his 
forerunners  we  have  found  a way  of  escape  : for  him  there 
seems  none.  The  board  is  at  the  door,  inscribed  Only  stand- 
ino-  room  left”  ; and  it  might  well  bear  the  more  poetic  legend, 
Lasciate  ogni  speranza^  voi  ch’  entrate.  This  man,  born  a 
proletarian,  must  die  a proletarian,  and  leave  his  destitution  as 
an  only  inheritance  to  his  son.  It  is  not  yet  clear  that  there  is 
ten  days’  life  in  him  ; for  whence  is  his  subsistence  to  come  if  he 
cannot  get  at  the  land  ? Food  he  must  have,  and  clothing ; 
and  both  promptly.  There  is  food  in  the  market,  and  clothing 
also ; but  not  for  nothing : hard  money  must  be  paid  for  it,  and 
paid  on  the  nail  too;  for  he  who  has  no  property  gets  no 


ECOKOMIC.  A 


9 


credit.  Money  tlien  is  a necessity  of  life  ; and  money  can  only 
be  procured  by  selling  commodities.  This  presents  no  difficulty 
to  the  cultivators  of  the  land,  who  can  raise  commodities  by 
their  labor ; but  the  proletarian,  being  landless,  has  neither 
commodities  nor  means  of  producing  them.  Sell  something  he 
must.  Yet  he  has  nothing  to  sell — except  himself.  The  idea 
seems  a desperate  one ; but  it  proves  quite  easy  to  carry  out. 
The  tenant  cultivators  of  the  land  have  not  strength  enougli  or 
time  enough  to  exhaust  the  productive  capacity  of  their  hold- 
ings. If  they  could  buy  men  in  the  market  for  less  than  these 
men’s  labor  would  add  to  the  produce,  then  the  purchase  of 
such  men  would  be  a sheer  gain.  It  would  indeed  be  only  a 
purchase  in  form  : the  men  would  literally  cost  nothing,  since 
they  would  produce  their  own  price,  with  a surplus  for  the 
buyer.  Never  in  the  history  of  buying  and  selling  was  there 
so  splendid  a bargain  for  buyers  as  this.  Aladdin’s  uncle’s 
offer  of  new  lamps  for  old  ones,  was  in  comparison  a catch- 
penny. Accordingly,  the  proletarian  no  sooner  offers  himself 
for  sale  than  he  finds  a rush  of  bidders  for  him,  each  striving  to 
get  the  better  of  the  others  by  offering  to  give  him  more  and 
more  of  the  produce  of  his  labor,  and  to  content  themselves 
with  less  and  less  surplus.  But  even  the  highest  bidder  must 
have  some  surplus,  or  he  will  not  buy.  The  proletarian,  in 
accepting  the  highest  bid,  sells  himself  openly  into  bondage. 
He  is  not  the  first  man  who  has  done  so ; for  it  is  evident  that 
his  forerunners,  the  purchasers  of  tenant  right,  had  been 
enslaved  by  the  proprietors  who  lived  on  the  rents  paid  by 
them.  But  now  all  the  disguise  falls  off ; the  proletarian  re- 
nounces not  only  the  fruit  of  his  labor,  but  also  his  right  to 
think  for  himself  and  to  direct  his  industry  as  he  pleases.  The 
economic  change  is  merely  formal ; the  moral  change  is  enor- 
mous. Soon  the  new  direct  traffic  in  men  overspreads  the 
whole  market,  and  takes  the  place  formerly  held  by  the  traffic 
in  tenant  rights.  In  order  to  understand  the  consequences,  it 
is  necessary  to  undertake  an  analysis  of  the  exchange  of  com- 
modities in  general,  since  labor  power  is  now  in  the  market  on 
the  same  footing  as  any  other  ware  exposed  there  for  sale. 

Exchange  Value. 

It  is  evident  that  the  custom  of  exchange  will  arise  in  the 
first  instance  as  soon  as  men  give  up  providing  each  for  his 


10 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


own  needs  by  his  own  labor.  A man  who  makes  his  own  tables 
and  chairs,  his  own  poker  and  kettle,  his  own  bread  and  butter, 
and  his  own  house  and  clothes,  is  jack-of-all- trades  and  master 
of  none.  He  finds  that  he  would  get  on  much  faster  if  he 
stuck  to  making  tables  and  chairs,  and  exchanged  them  with  the 
smith  for  a poker  and  kettle,  with  bakers  and  dairymen  for 
bread  and  butter,  and  with  builders  and  tailors  for  a house  and 
clothes.  In  doing  this,  he  finds  that  his  tables  and  chairs  are 
worth  so  much  — that  they  have  an  exchange  value,  as  it  is 
called.  As  a matter  of  general  convenience,  some  suitable 
commodity  is  set  up  to  measure  this  value.  We  set  up  gold, 
which  in  this  particular  use  of  it,  is  called  money.  The  chair- 
maker  finds  how  much  money  his  chairs  are  worth,  and  ex- 
changes them  for  it.  The  blacksmith  finds  out  how  much 
money  his  pokers  are  worth,  and  exchanges  them  for  it.  Thus, 
by  employing  money  as  a go-between,  chairmakers  can  get 
pokers  in  exchange  for  their  chairs,  and  blacksmiths  chairs  for 
their  pokers.  This  is  the  mechanism  of  exchange ; and  once 
the  values  of  the  commodities  are  ascertained  it  works  simply 
enough.  But  it  is  a mere  mechanism,  and  does  not  fix  the 
values  or  explain  them.  And  the  attempt  to  discover  what 
does  fix  them  is  beset  with  apparent  contradictions  which  block 
up  the  right  path,  and  with  seductive  coincidences  which  make 
the  wrong  seem  the  more  promising 

The  apparent  contradictions  soon  shew  themselves.  It  is 
evident  that  the  exchange  value  of  anything  depends  on  its 
utility,  since  no  mortal  exertion  can  make  a useless  thing  ex- 
changeable. And  yet  fresh  air  and  sunlight,  which  are  so  use- 
ful as  to  be  quite  indispensable,  have  no  exchange  value; 
whilst  a meteoric  stone,  shot  free  of  charge  from  the  firmament 
into  the  back  garden,  has  a considerable  exchange  value, 
although  it  is  an  eminently  dispensable  curiosity.  We  soon 
find  that  this  somehow  depends  on  the  fact  that  fresh  air  is 
plenty  and  meteoric  stones  scarce.  If  by  any  means  the  supply 
of  fresh  air  could  be  steadily  diminished,  and  the  supply  of 
meteoric  stones,  by  celestial  cannonade  or  otherwise,  steadily 
increased,  the  fresh  air  would  presently  acquire  an  exchange 
value  which  would  gradually  rise,  whilst  the  exchange  value  of 
meteoric  stones  would  gradually  fall,  until  at  last  fresh  air 
would  be  supplied  through  a meter  and  charged  for  like  gas, 
and  meteoric  stones  would  be  as  unsaleable  as  ordinary  pebbles. 


ECONOMIC. 


11 


The  exchange  value,  in  fact,  decreases  with  the  supply.  This 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  supply  decreases  in  utility  as  it  goes 
on,  because  when  people  have  had  some  of  a commodity,  they 
are  partly  satisfied,  and  do  not  value  the  rest  so  much.  The 
usefulness  of  a pound  of  bread  to  a man  depends  on  whether 
he  has  already  eaten  some.  Every  man  wants  a certain  num- 
ber of  pounds  of  bread  per  week,  no  man  wants  much  more  ; 
and  if  more  is  offered  he  will  not  give  much  for  it  — perhaps 
not  anything.  One  umbrella  is  very  useful : a second  umbrella 
is  a luxury : a third  is  mere  lumber.  Similarly,  the  curators  of 
our  museums  want  a moderate  collection  of  meteoric  stones ; 
but  they  do  not  want  a cartload  apiece  of  them.  Now  the  ex- 
change value  is  fixed  by  the  utility,  not  of  the  most  useful,  but 
of  the  least  useful  part  of  the  stock.  Why  this  is  so  can 
readily  be  made  obvious  by  an  illustration.  If  the  stock  of 
umbrellas  in  the  market  were  sufficiently  large  to  provide  two 
for  each  umbrella  carrier  in  the  community,  then,  since  a second 
umbrella  is  not  so  useful  as  the  first,  the  doctrinaire  course 
would  be  to  ticket  half  the  umbrellas  at,  say,  fifteen  shillings, 
and  the  other  half  at  eight  and  sixpence.  Unfortunately,  no 
man  will  give  fifteen  shillings  for  an  article  which  he  can  get 
for  eight  and  sixpence ; and  when  the  public  came  to  buy,  they 
would  buy  up  all  the  eight  and  sixpenny  umbrellas.  Each  per- 
son being  thus  supplied  with  an  umbrella,  the  remainder  of  the 
stock,  though  marked  fifteen  shillings,  would  be  in  the  position 
of  second  umbrellas,  only  worth  eight  and  sixpence.  This  is 
how  the  exchange  value  of  the  least  useful  part  of  the  supply 
fixes  the  exchange  value  of  all  the  rest.  Technically,  it  occurs 
by  ‘Hhe  law  of  indifference.”  And  since  the  least  useful 
unit  of  the  supply  is  generally  that  which  is  last  produced,  its 
utility  is  called  the  final  utility  of  the  commodity.  The  utility 
of  the  first  or  most  useful  unit  is  called  the  total  utility  of  the 
commodity.  If  there  were  but  one  umbrella  in  the  world,  the 
exchange  value  of  its  total  utility  would  be  what  the  most  deli- 
cate person  would  pay  for  it  on  a very  wet  day  sooner  than  go 
without  it.  But  practically,  thanks  to  the  law  of  indifference, 
the  most  delicate  person  pays  no  more  than  the  most  robust : 
that  is,  both  pay  alike  the  exchange  value  of  the  utility  of  the 
last  umbrella  produced  — or  of  the  final  utility  of  the  whole 
stock  of  umbrellas.  These  terms — law  of  indifference,  total 
utility,  and  final  utility  — though  admirably  expressive  and 


12 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


intelligible  When  you  know  beforehand  exactly  what  they  mean, 
are,  taken  by  themselves,  failures  in  point  of  lucidity  and  sug- 
gestiveness. Some  economists,  transferring  from  cultivation  to 
utility  our  old  metaphor  of  the  spreading  pool,  call  final  utility 
“marginal  utility.”  Either  will  serve  our  present  purpose,  as 
I do  not  intend  to  use  the  terms  again.  The  main  point  to  be 
grasped  is,  that  however  useful  any  commodity  may  be,  its  ex- 
change value  can  be  run  down  to  nothing  by  increasing  the 
supply  until  there  is  more  of  it  than  is  wanted.  The  excess, 
being  useless  and  valueless,  is  to  be  had  for  nothing ; and  no- 
body will  pay  anything  for  a commodity  as  long  as  plenty  of  it 
is  to  be  had  for  nothing.  This  is  why  air  and  other  indis- 
pensable things  have  no  exchange  value,  whilst  scarce  gewgaws 
fetch  immense  prices. 

These,  then,  are  the  conditions  which  confront  man  as  a pro- 
ducer and  exchanger.  If  he  produces  a useless  thing,  his  labor 
will  be  wholly  in  vain : he  will  get  nothing  for  it.  If  he  pro- 
duces a useful  thing,  the  price  he  will  get  for  it  will  depend  on 
how  much  of  it  there  is  for  sale  already.  If  he  increases  the 
supply  by  producing  more  than  is  sufficient  to  replace  the  cur- 
rent consumption,  he  inevitably  lowers  the  value  of  the  whole. 
It  therefore  behooves  him  to  be  wary  in  choosing  his  occupa- 
tion, as  well  as  industrious  in  pursuing  it.  His  choice  will 
naturally  fall  on  the  production  of  those  commodities  whose 
value  stands  highest  relatively  to  the  labor  required  to  produce 
them  — which  fetch  the  highest  price  in  proportion  to  their  cost, 
in  fact.  Suppose,  for  example,  that  a maker  of  musical  instru- 
ments found  that  it  cost  him  exactly  as  much  to  make  a harp  as 
to  make  a pianoforte,  but  that  harps  were  going  out  of  fashion 
and  pianofortes  coming  in.  Soon  there  would  be  more  harps 
than  were  wanted,  and  fewer  pianofortes  : consequently  the 
value  of  liarps  would  fall,  and  that  of  pianofortes  rise.  Since 
the  labor  cost  of  both  would  be  the  same,  he  would  immediately 
devote  all  his  labor  to  pianoforte-making ; and  other  manufac- 
turers would  do  the  same,  until  the  increase  of  supply  brought 
down  the  value  of  pianofortes  to  the  value  of  harps.  Possibly 
fashion  then  might  veer  from  pianofortes  to  American  organs, 
in  which  case  he  would  make  less  pianofortes  and  more  Ameri- 
can organs.  When  these,  too,  had  increased  sufficiently,  the 
exertions  of  the  Salvation  Army  might  create  such  a demand 
for  tambourines  as  to  make  them  worth  four  times  their  cost  of 


ECONOMIC. 


13 


production,  whereupon  there  would  instantly  be  a furious  con- 
centration of  the  instrument-making  energy  on  the  manufacture 
of  tambourines ; and  this  concentration  would  last  until  the 
supply  had  brought  down  the  profit  ^ to  less  than  might  be 
gained  by  gratifying  the  public  craving  for  trombones.  At  last, 
as  pianofortes  were  cheapened  until  they  were  no  more  profit- 
able than  harps ; then  American  organs  until  they  were  no 
more  profitable  than  pianos  ; and  then  tambourines  until  they 
were  level  with  American  organs  ; so  eventually  trombones  will 
pay  no  better  than  tambourines ; and  a general  level  of  profit 
will  be  attained,  indicating  the  proportion  in  which  the  instru- 
ments are  wanted  by  the  public.  But  to  skim  off  even  this 
level  of  profit,  more  of  the  instruments  may  be  produced  in  the 
ascertained  proportion  until  their  prices  fall  to  their  costs  of 
production,  when  there  will  be  no  profit.  Here  the  production 
will  be  decisively  checked,  since  a further  supply  would  cause 
only  a loss  ; and  men  can  lose  money,  without  the  trouble  of 
producing  commodities,  by  the  simple  process  of  throwing  it  out 
of  a window. 

What  occurred  with  the  musical  instruments  in  this  illustra- 
tion occurs  in  practice  with  the  whole  mass  of  manufactured 
commodities.  Those  which  are  scarce,  and  therefore  relatively 
high  in  value,  tempt  us  to  produce  them  until  the  increase  of 
the  supply  reduces  their  value  to  a point  at  which  there  is 
no  more  profit  to  be  made  out  of  them  than  out  of  other 
commodities.  The  general  level  of  profit  thus  attained  is 
further  exploited  until  the  general  increase  brings  down  the 
price  of  all  commodities  to  their  cost  of  production,  the  equiva- 
lent of  which  is  sometimes  called  their  normal  value.  And 
here  a glance  back  to  our  analysis  of  the  spread  of  cultivation, 
and  its  result  in  the  phenomenon  of  rent,  suggests  the  question 
What  does  the  cost  of  production  of  a commodity  mean?  We 
have  seen  that,  owing  to  the  differences  in  fertility  and  advan- 
tage of  situation  between  one  piece  of  land  and  another,  cost  of 
production  varies  from  district  to  district,  being  highest  at  the 
margin  of  cultivation.  But  we  have  also  seen  how  the  landlord 
skims  off  as  economic  rent  all  the  advantages  gained  by  the  cul- 
tivators of  superior  soils  and  sites.  Consequently,  the  addition 
of  the  landlord’s  rent  to  the  expenses  of  production  brings  them 

1 Profit  is  here  used  colloquially  to  denote  the  excess  of  the  value 
of  an  article  over  its  cost. 


14 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


up  even  on  the  best  land  to  the  level  of  those  incurred  on  the 
worst.  Cost  of  production,  then,  means  cost  of  production  on 
the  margin  of  cultivation,  and  is  equalized  to  all  producers, 
since  what  they  may  save  in  labor  per  commodity  is  counter- 
balanced by  the  greater  mass  of  commodities  they  must  produce 
in  order  to  bring  in  the  rent.  It  is  only  by  a thorough  grasp  of 
this  levelling-down  action  that  we  can  detect  the  trick  by  which 
the  ordinary  economist  tries  to  cheat  us  into  accepting  the 
private  property  system  as  practically  just.  He  first  shews  that 
economic  rent  does  not  enter  into  cost  of  production  on  the 
margin  of  cultivation.  Then  he  shews  that  the  cost  of  produc- 
tion on  the  margin  of  cultivation  determines  the  price  of  a com- 
modity. Therefore,  he  argues,  first,  that  rent  does  not  enter 
into  price ; and  second,  that  the  value  of  commodities  is  fixed 
by  their  cost  of  production,  the  implication  being  that  the  land- 
lords cost  the  community  nothing,  and  that  commodities  ex- 
change in  exact  proportion  to  the  labor  they  cost.  This  trivially 
ingenious  way  of  being  disengenuous  is  officially  taught  as  politi- 
cal economy  in  our  schools  to  this  day.  It  will  be  seen  at  once 
that  it  is  mere  thimblerig.  So  far  from  commodities  exchang- 
ing, or  tending  to  exchange,  according  to  the  labor  expended  in 
their  production,  commodities  produced  well  within  the  margin 
of  cultivation  will  fetch  as  high  a price  as  commodities  produced 
at  the  margin  with  much  greater  labor.  So  far  from  the  land- 
lord costing  nothing,  he  costs  all  the  difference  between  the  two. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  goal  of  our  analysis  of  value.  We 
now  see  how  Man’s  control  over  the  value  of  commodities  con- 
sists solely  in  his  power  of  regulating  their  supply.  Individuals 
are  constantly  trying  to  decrease  supply  for  their  own  advan- 
tage. Gigantic  conspiracies  have  been  entered  into  to  forestall 
the  world’s  wheat  and  cotton  harvests,  so  as  to  force  their  value 
to  the  highest  possible  point.  Cargoes  of  East  Indian  spices 
have  been  destroyed  by  the  Dutch  as  cargoes  of  fish  are  now 
destroyed  in  the  Thames,  to  maintain  prices  by  limiting  supply. 
All  rings,  trusts,  corners,  combinations,  monopolies  and  trade 
secrets  have  the  same  object.  Production  and  the  development 
of  the  social  instincts  are  alike  hindered  by  each  man’s  con- 
sciousness that  the  more  he  stints  the  community  the  more  he 
benefits  himself,  the  justification,  of  course,  being  that  when 
every  man  has  benefited  himself  at  the  expense  of  the  com- 
munity, the  community  will  benefit  by  every  man  in  it  being 


ECONOMIC. 


15 


benefited.  From  one  thing  the  community  is  safe.  There  will 
be  no  permanent  conspiracies  to  reduce  values  by  increasing 
supply.  All  men  will  cease  producing  when  the  value  of  their 
product  falls  below  its  cost  of  production,  whether  in  labor  or 
in  labor rent.  No  man  will  keep  on  producing  bread  until 
it  will  fetch  nothing,  like  the  sunlight,  or  until  it  becomes  a 
nuisance,  like  the  rain  in  the  summer  of  1888.  So  far,  our 
minds  are  at  ease  as  to  the  excessive  increase  of  commodities 
voluntarily  produced  by  the  labor  of  man. 

Wages. 

I now  ask  you  to  pick  up  the  dropped  subject  of  the  spread 
of  cultivation.  We  had  got  as  far  as  the  appearance  in  the 
market  of  a new  commodity  — of  the  proletarian  man  compelled 
to  live  by  the  sale  of  himself ! In  order  to  realize  at  once  the 
latent  horror  of  this,  you  have  only  to  apply  our  investigation 
of  value,  with  its  inevitable  law  that  only  by  restricting  the 
supply  of  a commodity  can  its  value  be  kept  from  descending 
finally  to  zero.  The  commodity  which  the  proletarian  sells  is 
one  over  the  production  of  which  he  has  practically  no  control. 
He  is  himself  driven  to  produce  it  by  an  irresistible  impulse. 
It  was  the  increase  of  population  that  spread  cultivation  and 
civilization  from  the  centre  to  the  snowline,  and  at  last  forced 
men  to  sell  themselves  to  the  lords  of  the  soil : it  is  the  same 
force  that  continues  to  multiply  men  so  that  their  exchange 
falls  slowly  and  surely  until  it  disappears  altogether  — until 
even  black  chattel  slaves  are  released  as  not  worth  keeping  in  a 
land  where  men  of  all  colors  are  to  be  had  for  nothing.  This 
is  the  condition  of  our  English  laborers  to-day : they  are  no 
longer  even  dirt  cheap : they  are  valueless,  and  can  be  had  for 
nothing.  The  proof  is  the  existence  of  the  unemployed,  who 
can  find  no  purchasers.  By  the  law  of  indifference,  nobody 
will  buy  men  at  a price  when  he  can  obtain  equally  serviceable 
men  for  nothing.  What,  then,  is  the  explanation  of  the  wages 
given  to  those  who  are  in  employment,  and  who  certainly  do 
not  work  for  nothing  ? The  matter  is  deplorably  simple.  Sup- 
pose that  horses  multiplied  in  England  in  such  quantities  that 
they  were  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  like  kittens  condemned  to 
the  bucket.  You  would  still  have  to  feed  your  horse  — feed 
him  and  lodge  him  well  if  you  used  him  as  a smart  hunter  — 


16 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


feed  him  and  lodge  him  wretchedly  if  you  used  him  only  as  a 
drudge.  But  the  cost  of  keeping  would  not  mean  that  the 
horse  had  an  exchange  value.  If  you  got  him  for  nothing  in 
the  first  instance  — if  no  one  would  give  you  anything  for  liim 
when  you  were  done  with  him,  he  would  be  worth  nothing,  in 
spite  of  the  cost  of  his  keep.  That  is  just  the  case  of  every 
member  of  the  proletariat  who  could  be  replaced  by  one  of  the 
unemployed  to-day.  Their  wage  is  not  the  price  of  themselves ; 
for  they  are  worth  nothing:  it  is  only  their  keep.  For  bare 
subsistence  wages  you  can  get  as  much  common  labor  as  you 
want,  and  do  what  you  please  with  it  within  the  limits  of  a 
criminal  code  which  is  sure  to  be  interpreted  by  a proprietary- 
class  judge  in  your  favor.  If  you  have  to  give  your  footman  a 
better  allowance  than  your  wretched  hewer  of  match  wood,  it  is 
for  the  same  reason  that  you  have  to  give  your  hunter  beans 
and  a clean  stall  instead  of  chopped  straw  and  a sty.^ 

Capitalism. 

At  this  stage  the  acquisition  of  labor  becomes  a mere  ques- 
tion of  provender.  If  a railway  is  required,  all  that  is  necessary 
is  to  provide  subsistence  for  a sufficient  number  of  laborers  to 
construct  it.  If,  for  example,  the  railway  requires  the  labor 
of  a thousand  men  for  five  years,  the  cost  to  the  proprietors  of 
the  site  is  the  subsistence  of  a thousand  men  for  five  years. 
This  subsistence  is  technically  called  capital.  It  is  provided  for 
by  the  proprietors  not  consuming  the  whole  excess  over  wages 
of  the  produce  of  the  labor  of  their  other  wage  workers,  but 
setting  aside  enough  for  the  subsistence  of  the  railway  makers. 
In  this  way  capital  can  claim  to  be  the  result  of  saving,  or,  as 
one  ingenious  apologist  neatly  put  it,  the  reward  of  abstinence, 
a gleam  of  humor  which  still  enlivens  treatises  on  capital. 
The  savers,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  are  those  who  have  more 
money  than  they  want  to  spend : the  abstainers  are  those  who 
have  less.  At  the  end  of  the  five  years,  the  completed  railway 

1 When  one  of  the  conditions  of  earning  a wage  is  the  keeping  up  of 
a certain  state,  subsistence  wages  may  reach  a figure  to  which  the 
term  seems  ludicrously  inappropriate.  For  example,  a fashionable 
physician  in  London  cannot  save  out  of  £1,000  a year  ; and  the  post  of 
Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland  can  only  be  filled  by  a man  who  brings 
considerable  private  means  to  the  aid  of  his  official  salary  of  £20,000. 


ECONOMIC. 


IT 


is  the  property  of  the  capitalists  ; and  the  railway  makers  fall 
back  into  the  labor  market  as  helpless  as  they  were  before. 
Sometimes  the  proprietors  call  the  completed  railway  their 
capital ; but,  strictly,  this  is  only  a figure  of  speech.  Capital  is 
simply  spare  subsistence.  Its  market  value,  indicated  by  the 
current  rate  of  interest,  falls  with  the  increase  of  population, 
whereas  the  market  value  of  established  stock  rises  with  it.^ 
If  Mr.  Goschen,  encouraged  by  his  success  in  reducing  Con- 
sols, were  to  ask  the  proprietors  of  the  London  and  North 
Western  Railway  to  accept  as  full  compensation  for  their  com- 
plete expropriation  capital  just  sufficient  to  make  the  railway 
anew,  their  amazement  at  his  audacity  would  at  once  make  him 
feel  the  difference  between  a railway  and  capital.  Colloquially, 
one  property  with  a farm  on  it  is  said  to  be  land  yielding  rent ; 
whilst  another,  with  a railway  on  it,  is  called  capital  yielding 
interest.  But  economically  there  is  no  distinction  between 
them  when  they  once  become  sources  of  revenue.  This  would 
be  quite  clearly  seen  if  costly  enterprises  like  railways  could  be 
undertaken  by  a single  landlord  on  his  own  land  out  of  his  own 
surplus  wealth.  It  is  the  necessity  of  combining  a number  of 
possessors  of  surplus  wealth,  and  devising  a financial  machinery 
for  apportioning  their  shares  in  the  produce  to  their  shares  in 
the  capital  contributed,  that  modifies  the  terminology  and  ex- 
ternal aspect  of  the  exploitation.  But  the  modification  is  not 
an  alteration : shareholder  and  landlord  live  alike  on  the  pro- 
duce extracted  from  their  property  by  the  labor  of  the  pro- 
letariat. 

“ Overpopulation.” 

The  introduction  of  the  capitalistic  system  is  a sign  that  the 
exploitation  of  the  laborer  toiling  for  a bare  subsistence  wage 
has  become  one  of  the  chief  arts  of  life  among  the  holders  of 
tenant  rights.  It  also  produces  a delusive  promise  of  endless 
employment  which  blinds  the  proletariat  to  those  disastrous 
consequences  of  rapid  multiplication  which  are  obvious  to  the 
small  cultivator  and  peasant  proprietor.  But  indeed  the  more 

1 The  current  rate  must,  under  present  conditions,  eventually  fall  to 
zero,  and  even  become  “ negative.’*  By  that  time  shares  which  now 
bring  in  a dividend  of  100  per  cent,  may  very  possibly  bring  in  200  or 
more.  Yet  the  fall  of  the  rate  has  been  mistaken  for  a tendency  of  in- 
terest to  disappear.  It  really  indicates  a tendency  of  interest  to  in- 
crease. 


18 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


you  degrade  the  workers,  robbing  them  of  all  artistic  enjoy- 
ment, and  all  chance  of  respect  and  admiration  from  their 
fellows,  the  more  you  throw  them  back,  reckless,  on  the  one 
pleasure  and  the  one  human  tie  left  to  them  — the  gratification 
of  their  instinct  for  producing  fresh  supplies  of  men.  You  will 
applaud  this  instinct  as  divine  until  at  last  the  excessive  supply 
becomes  a nuisance : there  comes  a plague  of  men ; and  you 
suddenly  discover  that  the  instinct  is  diabolic,  and  set  up  a cry 
of  overpopulation.”  But  your  slaves  are  beyond  caring  for 
your  cries ; they  breed  like  rabbits ; and  their  poverty  breeds 
filth,  ugliness,  dishonesty,  disease,  obscenity,  drunkenness,  and 
murder.  In  the  midst  of  the  riches  which  their  labor  piles  up 
for  you,  their  misery  rises  up  too  and  stifles  you.  You  with- 
draw in  disgust  to  the  other  end  of  the  town  from  them ; you 
appoint  special  carriages  on  your  railways  and  special  seats  in 
your  churches  and  theatres  for  them ; you  set  your  life  apart 
from  theirs  by  every  class  barrier  you  can  devise ; and  yet  they 
swarm  about  you  still:  your  face  gets  stamped  with  your 
habitual  loathing  and  suspicion  of  them ; your  ears  get  so  filled 
with  the  language  of  the  vilest  of  them  that  you  break  into  it 
when  you  lose  your  self-control ; they  poison  your  life  as  re- 
morselessly as  you  have  sacrificed  theirs  heartlessly.  You 
begin  to  believe  intensely  in  the  devil.  Then  comes  the  terror 
of  their  revolting  ; the  drilling  and  arming  of  bodies  of  them  to 
keep  down  the  rest ; the  prison,  the  hospital,  paroxysms  of 
frantic  coercion,  followed  by  paroxysms  of  frantic  charity. 
And  in  the  meantime,  the  population  continues  to  increase ! 

Illth.” 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  during  this  grotesquely  hideous 
march  of  civilization  from  bad  to  worse,  wealth  is  increasing 
side  by  side  with  misery.  Such  a thing  is  eternally  impossible  ; 
wealth  is  steadily  decreasing  with  the  spread  of  poverty.  But 
riches  are  increasing,  which  is  quite  another  thing.  The  total 
of  the  exchange  values  produced  in  the  country  annually  is 
mounting  perhaps  by  leaps  and  bounds.  But  the  accumulation 
of  riches,  and  consequently  of  an  excessive  purchasing  power, 
in  the  hands  of  a class,  soon  satiates  that  class  with  socially 
useful  wealth,  and  sets  them  offering  a price  for  luxuries.  The 
moment  a price  is  to  be  had  for  a luxury,  it  acquires  exchange 


ECONOMIC. 


19 


value,  and  labor  is  employed  to  produce  it.  A New  York  lady, 
for  instance,  having  a nature  of  exquisite  sensibility,  orders  an 
elegant  rosewood  and  silver  coffin,  upholstered  in  pink  satin, 
for  her  dead  dog.  It  is  made  ; and  meanwhile  a live  child  is 
prowling  barefooted  and  hunger-stunted  in  the  frozen  gutter 
outside.  The  exchange-value  of  the  coffin  is  counted  as  part 
of  the  national  wealth ; but  a nation  which  cannot  afford  food 
and  clothing  for  its  children  cannot  be  allowed  to  pass  as 
wealthy  because  it  has  provided  a pretty  coffin  for  a dead  dog. 
Exchange  value  itself,  in  fact,  has  become  bedevilled  like 
everything  else,  and  represents,  no  longer  utility,  but  the  crav- 
ings of  lust,  folly,  vanity,  gluttony,  and  madness,  technically 
described  by  genteel  economists  as  ‘‘  effective  demand.” 
Luxuries  are  not  social  wealth ; the  machinery  for  producing 
them  is  not  social  wealth ; labor  skilled  only  to  manufacture 
them  is  not  socially  useful  labor ; the  men,  women,  and  children 
who  make  a living  by  producing  them  are  no  more  self-support- 
ing than  the  idle  rich  for  whose  amusement  they  are  kept  at 
work.  It  is  the  habit  of  counting  as  wealth  the  exchange  values 
involved  in  these  transactions  that  makes  us  fancy  that  the  poor 
are  starving  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  They  are  starving  in  the 
midst  of  plenty  of  jewels,  velvets,  laces,  equipages,  and  race- 
horses ; but  not  in  the  midst  of  plenty  of  food.  In  the  things 
that  are  wanted  for  the  welfare  of  the  people  we  are  abjectly 
poor ; and  England’s  social  policy  to-day  may  be  likened  to 
the  domestic  policy  of  those  adventuresses  who  leave  their 
children  half-clothed  and  half-fed  in  order  to  keep  a carriage 
and  deal  with  a fashionable  dressmaker.  But  it  is  quite  true 
that  whilst  wealth  and  welfare  are  decreasing,  productive  power 
is  increasing ; and  nothing  but  the  perversion  of  this  power  to 
the  production  of  socially  useless  commodities  prevents  the 
apparent  wealth  from  becoming  real.  The  purchasing  power 
that  commands  luxuries  in  the  hands  of  the  rich,  would  com- 
mand true  wealth  in  the  hands  of  all.  Yet  private  property 
must  still  heap  the  purchasing  power  upon  the  few  rich  and 
withdraw  it  from  the  many  poor.  So  that,  in  the  end,  the  sub- 
ject of  the  one  boast  that  private  property  can  make  — the 
great  accumulation  of  so-called  “ wealth  ” which  it  points  so 
proudly  to  as  the  result  of  its  power  to  scourge  men  and  women 
daily  to  prolonged  and  intense  toil,  turns  out  to  be  a simulacrum. 
With  all  its  energy,  its  Smilesian  ‘‘  self-help,”  its  merchant- 


20 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 

princely  enterprise,  its  ferocious  sweating  and  slave-driving,  its 
prodigality  of  blood,  sweat  and  tears,  what  has  it  heaped  up, 
over  and  above  the  pittance  of  its  slaves  ? Only  a monstrous 
pile  of  frippery,  some  tainted  class  literature  and  class  art,  and 
not  a little  poison  and  mischief. 

This,  then,  is  the  economic  analysis  which  convicts  Private 
Property  of  being  unjust  even  from  the  beginning,  and  utterly 
impossible  as  a final  solution  of  even  the  individualist  aspect 
of  the  problem  of  adjusting  the  share  of  the  worker  in  the 
distribiition  of  wealth  to  the  labor  incurred  by  him  in  its 
production.  All  attempts  yet  made  to  construct  true  societies 
ujDon  it  have  failed ; the  nearest  things  to  societies  so  achieved 
have  been  civilizations,  which  have  rotted  into  centres  of  vice 
and  luxury,  and  eventually  been  swept  away  by  uncivilized 
races.  That  our  own  civilization  is  already  in  an  advanced 
stage  of  rottenness  may  be  taken  as  statistically  proved.  That 
further  decay  instead  of  improvement  must  ensue  if  the  institu- 
tion of  private  property  be  maintained,  is  economically  certain. 
Fortunately,  private  property  in  its  integrity  is  not  now  prac- 
ticable. Although  the  safety-valve  of  emigration  has  been 
furiously  at  work  during  this  century,  yet  the  pressure  of  popu- 
lation has  forced  us  to  begin  the  restitution  to  the  people  of 
the  sums  taken  from  them  for  the  ground  landlords,  holders  of 
tenant  right,  and  capitalists,  by  the  imposition  of  an  income 
tax,  and  by  compelling  them  to  establish  out  of  their  revenues 
a national  system  of  education,  besides  imposing  restrictions  — 
as  yet  only  of  the  forcible-feeble  sort  — on  their  terrible  power 
of  abusing  the  wage  contract.  These,  however,  are  dealt  with 
by  Mr.  Sidney  Webb  in  the  historic  essay  which  follows.  I 
should  not  touch  upon  them  at  all,  were  it  not  that  experience 
has  lately  convinced  all  economists  that  no  exercise  in  abstract 
economics,  however  closely  deduced,  is  to  be  trusted  unless  it 
can  be  experimentally  verified  by  tracing  its  expression  in 
history.  It  is  true  that  the  process  which  I have  presented  as 
a direct  development  of  private  property  between  free  ex- 
changers had  to  work  itself  out  in  the  Old  World  indirectly 
and  tortuously  through  a struggle  with  political  and  religious 
institutions  and  survivals  <|uite  antagonistic  to  it.  It  is  true 
that  cultivation  did  not  begin  in  Western  Europe  with  the 
solitary  emigrant  pre-empting  his  private  property,  but  with 


ECONOMIC. 


21 


the  tribal  communes  in  which  arose  subsequently  the  assertion 
of  the  right  of  the  individual  to  private  judgment  and  private 
action  against  the  tyranny  of  primitive  society.  It  is  true  that 
cultivation  has  not  proceeded  by  logical  steps  from  good  land 
to  less  good ; from  less  good  to  bad ; and  from  bad  to  worse : 
the  exploration  of  new  countries  and  new  regions,  and  the  dis- 
covery of  new  uses  for  old  products,  has  often  made  the  margin 
of  cultivation  more  fruitful  than  the  centre,  and,  for  the 
moment  (whilst  the  centre  was  shifting  to  the  margin),  turned 
the  whole  movement  of  rent  and  wages  directly  counter  to  tlie 
economic  theory.  Nor  is  it  true  that,  taking  the  world  as  one 
country,  cultivation  has  yet  spread  from  the  snowline  to  the 
water’s  edge.  There  is  free  land  still  for  the  poorest  East  End 
match-box  maker  if  she  could  get  there,  reclaim  the  wilderness 
there,  speak  the  language  there,  stand  the  climate  there,  and 
be  fed,  clothed,  and  housed  there  whilst  she  cleared  her  farm ; 
learned  how  to  cultivate  it ; and  waited  for  the  harvest.  Econ- 
omists have  been  ingenious  enough  to  prove  that  this  alterna- 
tive really  secures  her  independence ; but  I shall  not  waste 
time  in  dealing  with  that.  Practically,  if  there  is  no  free  land 
in  England,  the  economic  analysis  holds  good  of  England,  in 
spite  of  Siberia,  Central  Africa,  and  the  Wild  West.  Again, 
it  is  not  immediately  true  that  men  are  governed  in  production 
solely  by  a determination  to  realize  the  maximum  of  exchange 
value.  The  impulse  to  production  often  takes  specific  direction 
in  the  first  instance;  and  a man  will  insist  on  producing 
pictures  or  plays  although  he  might  gain  more  money  by  pro- 
ducing boots  or  bonnets.  But,  his  specific  impulse  once  grati- 
fied, he  will  make  as  much  money  as  he  can.  He  will  sell  his 
picture  or  play  for  a hundred  pounds  rather  than  for  fifty.  In 
short,  though  there  is  no  such  person  as  the  celebrated  eco- 
nomic man,”  man  being  wilful  rather  than  rational,  yet  when 
the  wilful  man  has  had  his  way  he  will  take  what  else  he  can 
get ; and  so  he  always  does  appear,  finally  if  not  primarily,  as 
the  economic  man.  On  the  whole,  history,  even  in  the  Old 
World,  goes  the  way  traced  by  the  economist.  In  the  New 
World  the  correspondence  is  exact.  The  United  States  and 
the  Colonies  have  been  peopled  by  fugitives  from  the  full-blown 
individualism  of  Western  Europe,  pre-empting  private  property 
precisely  as  assumed  in  this  investigation  of  the  conditions  of 
cultivation.  The  economic  relations  of  these  cultivators  have 


22 


THE  BASIS  OE  SOCIALISM. 


not  since  put  on  any  of  the  old  political  disguises.  Yet  among 
them,  in  confirmation  of  the  validity  of  our  analysis,  we  see  all 
the  evils  of  our  old  civilizations  growing  up ; and  though  with 
them  the  end  is  not  yet,  still  it  is  from  them  to  us  that  the 
great  recent  revival  of  the  cry  for  nationalization  of  the  land 
has  come,  articulated  by  a man  who  had  seen  the  whole  tragedy 
of  private  property  hurried  through  its  acts  with  unprecedented 
speed  in  the  mushroom  cities  of  America. 

On  Socialism  the  analysis  of  the  economic  action  of  Indi- 
vidualism bears  as  a discovery,  in  the  j^rivate  appropriation  of 
land,  of  the  source  of  those  unjust  privileges  against  which 
Socialism  is  aimed.  It  is  practically  a demonstration  that 
public  property  in  land  is  the  basic  economic  condition  of  So- 
cialism. But  this  does  not  involve  at  present  a literal  restora- 
tion of  the  land  to  the  people.  The  land  is  at  present  in  the 
hands  of  the  people  : its  proprietors  are  for  the  most  part 
absentees.  The  modern  form  of  private  property  is  simply  a 
legal  claim  to  take  a share  of  the  produce  of  the  national  indus- 
try year  by  year  without  working  for  it.  It  refers  to  no  special 
part  or  form  of  that  produce ; and  in  process  of  consumption  its 
revenue  cannot  be  distinguished  from  earnings,  so  that  the 
majority  of  persons,  accustomed  to  call  the  commodities  which 
form  the  income  of  the  proprietor  his  private  property,  and 
seeing  no  difference  between  them  and  the  commodities  which 
form  the  income  of  a worker,  extend  the  term  private  property 
to  the  worker’s  subsistence  also,  and  can  only  conceive  an  attack 
on  private  property  as  an  attempt  to  empower  everybody  to 
rob  everybody  else  all  round.  But  the  income  of  a private 
proprietor  can  be  distinguished  by  the  fact  that  he  obtains  it 
unconditionally  and  gratuitously  by  private  right  against  the 
public  weal,  which  is  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  con- 
sumers who  do  not  produce.  Socialism  involves  discontinuance 
of  the  payment  of  these  incomes,  and  addition  of  the  wealth  so 
saved  to  incomes  derived  from  labor.  As  we  have  seen,  in- 
comes derived  from  private  pi  perty  consist  partly  of  economic 
rent ; partly  of  pensions,  also  called  rent,  obtained  by  the  sub- 
letting of  tenant  rights  ; and  partly  of  a form  of  rent  called 
interest,  obtained  by  special  adaptations  of  land  to  production 
by  the  application  of  capital : all  these  being  finally  paid  out  of 
the  dilference  between  the  jiroduce  of  tlie  worker’s  labor  and 
the  price  of  that  labor  sold  in  the  oj^en  market  for  wages,  salary. 


ECONOMIC. 


fees,  or  profits.^  The  wliole,  except  economic  rent,  can  be 
added  directly  to  the  incomes  of  the  workers  by  simply  discon- 
tinuing its  exaction  from  them.  Economic  rent,  arising  as  it 
does  from  variations  of  fertility  or  advantages  of  situation,  must 
always  be  held  as  common  or  social  wealth,  and  used,  as  the 
revenues  raised  by  taxation  are  now  used,  for  public  purposes, 
among  which  Socialism  would  make  national  insurance  and  the 
provision  of  capital  matters  of  the  first  importance. 

The  economic  problem  of  Socialism  is  thus  solved ; and  the 
political  question  of  how  the  economic  solution  is  to  be  practi- 
cally applied  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of  this  essay. 
But  if  we  have  got  as  far  as  an  intellectual  conviction  that  the 
source  of  our  social  misery  is  no  eternal  well-spring  of  confusion 
and  evil,  but  only  an  artificial  system  susceptible  of  almost 
infinite  modification  and  readjustment  — nay,  of  practical  de- 
molition and  substitution  at  the  will  of  Man,  then  a terrible 
weight  will  be  lifted  from  the  minds  of  all  except  those  who  are, 
whether  avowedly  to  themselves  or  not,  clinging  to  the  present 
state  of  things  from  base  motives.  We  have  had  in  this  century 
a stern  series  of  lessons  on  the  folly  of  believing  anything  for 
no  better  reason  than  that  it  is  pleasant  to  believe  it.  It  was 
pleasant  to  look  round  with  a consciousness  of  possessing  a 
thousand  a year,  and  say,  with  Browning’s  David,  All’s  love ; 
and  all’s  law.”  It  was  pleasant  to  believe  that  the  chance  we 
were  too  lazy  to  take  in  this  world  would  come  back  to  us  in 
another.  It  was  pleasant  to  believe  that  a benevolent  hand  was 
guiding  the  steps  of  society  ; overruling  all  evil  appearances  for 
good ; and  making  poverty  here  the  earnest  of  a great  blessed- 
ness and  reward  hereafter.  It  was  pleasant  to  lose  the  sense 
of  worldly  inequality  in  the  contemplation  of  our  equality  be- 
fore God.  But  utilitarian  questioning  and  scientific  answering 
turned  all  this  tranquil  optimism  into  the  blackest  pessimism. 
Nature  was  shewn  to  us  as  red  in  tooth  and  claw  ” : if  the 
guiding  hand  were  indeed  benevolent,  then  it  could  not  be  om- 
nipotent ; so  that  our  trust  in  it  was  broken : if  it  were  omnipo- 
tent, it  could  not  be  benevolent ; so  that  our  love  of  it  turned  to 
fear  and  hatred.  We  had  never  admitted  that  the  other  world, 
which  was  to  compensate  for  the  sorrows  of  this,  was  open  to 

1 This  excess  of  the  product  of  labor  over  its  price  is  treated  as  a 
single  category  with  impressive  effect  by  Karl  Marx,  who  called  it 
‘‘  surplus  value  ” (mehrwerth). 


24 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


liorses  and  apes  (though  we  had  not  on  that  account  been  any 
the  more  merciful  to  our  horses) ; and  now  came  Science  to 
shew  us  the  corner  of  the  pointed  ear  of  the  horse  on  our  own 
heads,  and  present  the  ape  to  us  as  our  blood  relation.  No 
proof  came  of  the  existence  of  that  other  world  and  that  benev- 
olent power  to  wliich  we  had  left  the  remedy  of  the  atrocious 
wrongs  of  the  poor ; proof  after  proof  came  that  what  we  called 
Nature  knew  and  cared  no  more  about  our  pains  and  pleasures 
than  we  know  or  care  about  the  tiny  creatures  we  crush  under- 
foot as  we  walk  through  the  fields.  Instead  of  at  once  perceiv- 
ing that  this  meant  no  more  than  that  Nature  was  unmoral  and 
indifferent,  we  relapsed  into  a gross  form  of  devil  worship,  and 
conceived  Nature  as  a remorselessly  malignant  power.  This 
was  no  better  than  the  old  optimism,  and  infinitely  gloomier. 
It  kept  our  eyes  still  shut  to  the  truth  that  there  is  no  cruelty 
and  selfishness  outside  Man  himself ; and  that  his  own  active 
benevolence  can  combat  and  vanquish  both.  When  the 
Socialist  came  forward  as  a meliorist  on  these  lines,  the  old 
school  of  political  economists,  who  could  see  no  alternative  to 
private  property,  put  forward  in  proof  of  the  powerlessness  of 
benevolent  action  to  arrest  the  deadly  automatic  production  of 
poverty  by  the  increase  of  population,  the  very  analysis  I have 
just  presented.  Their  conclusions  exactly  fitted  in  with  the 
new  ideas.  It  was  Nature  at  it  again  — the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence — the  remorseless  extirpation  of  the  weak  — the  survival 
of  the  fittest  — in  short,  natural  selection  at  work.  Socialism 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true : it  was  passed  by  as  merely  the  old 
optimism  foolishly  running  its  head  against  the  stone  wall  of 
modern  science.  But  Socialism  now  challenges  individualism, 
scepticism,  pessimism,  worship  of  Nature  personified  as  a devil, 
on  their  own  ground  of  science.  The  science  of  the  production 
and  distribution  of  wealth  is  Political  Economy.  Socialism 
appeals  to  that  science,  and,  turning  on  Individualism  its  own 
guns,  routs  it  in  incurable  disaster.  Henceforth  the  bitter 
cynic  wlio  still  finds  the  world  an  eternal  and  unimprovable 
doghole,  with  tlie  placid  person  of  means  who  repeats  the 
familiar  misquotation,  The  poor  ye  shall  have  always  with 
you,’’  lose  their  usurped  place  among  the  cultured,  and  pass 
over  to  the  ranks  of  the  ignorant,  the  shallow,  and  the  super- 
stitious. As  for  the  rest  of  us,  since  we  were  taught  to  revere 
proprietary  resi^ectability  in  our  unfortunate  childhood,  and 


ECONOMIC. 


25 


since  we  found  our  childish  hearts  so  hard  and  unregenerate 
that  they  secretly  hated  and  rebelled  against  respectability  in 
spite  of  that  teaching,  it  is  impossible  to  express  the  relief  with 
which  we  discover  that  our  hearts  were  all  along  right,  and  that 
the  current  respectability  of  to-day  is  nothing  but  a huge  inver- 
sion of  righteous  and  scientific  social  order  weltering  in  dis- 
honesty, uselessness,  selfishness,  wanton  misery,  and  idiotic 
waste  of  magnificent  opportunities  for  noble  and  happy  living. 
It  was  terrible  to  feel  this,  and  yet  to  fear  that  it  could  not  be 
helped  — that  the  poor  must  starve  and  make  you  ashamed  of 
your  dinner  — that  they  must  shiver  and  make  you  ashamed  of 
your  warm  overcoat.  It  is  to  economic  science  — once  the 
Dismal,  now  the  Hopeful  — that  we  are  indebted  for  the  dis- 
covery that  though  the  evil  is  enormously  worse  than  we  knew, 
yet  it  is  not  eternal  — not  even  very  long  lived,  if  we  only 
bestir  ourselves  to  make  an  end  of  it. 


HISTORIC. 


BY  SIDNEY  WEBB. 


The  Development  of  the  Democratic  Ideal. 

In  discussing  the  historic  groundwork  of  Socialism,  it  is 
worth  remembering  that  no  special  claim  is  made  for  Socialism 
in  the  assertion  that  it  possesses  a basis  in  history.  Just  as 
every  human  being  has  an  ancestry,  unknown  to  him  though  it 
may  be ; so  every  idea,  every  incident,  every  movement  has  in 
the  past  its  own  long  chain  of  causes,  without  which  it  could 
not  have  been.  Formerly  we  were  glad  to  let  the  dead  bury 
their  dead : nowadays  we  turn  lovingly  to  the  records,  whether 
of  persons  or  things ; and  we  busy  ourselves  willingly  among 
origins,  even  without  conscious  utilitarian  end.  We  are  no 
longer  proud  of  having  ancestors,  since  every  one  has  them ; 
but  we  are  more  than  ever  interested  in  our  ancestors,  now  that 
we  find  in  them  the  fragments  which  compose  our  very  selves. 
The  liistoric  ancestry  of  the  English  social  organization  during 
tlie  present  century  stands  witness  to  the  irresistible  momentum 
of  the  ideas  which  Socialism  denotes.  The  record  of  the  cen- 
tury in  English  social  history  begins  with  the  trial  and  hopeless 
failure  of  an  almost  complete  industrial  individualism,  in  which, 
however,  unrestrained  private  ownership  of  land  and  capital 
was  accompanied  by  subjection  to  a political  oligarchy.  So 
little  element  of  permanence  was  there  in  this  individualistic 
order  that,  with  the  progress  of  political  emancipation,  private 
ownership  of  the  means  of  production  has  been,  in  one  direction 
or  another,  successively  regulated,  limited  and  superseded,  until 
it  may  now  fairly  be  claimed  that  the  Socialist  philosophy  of 
to-day  is  but  the  conscious  and  explicit  assertion  of  principles 
of  social  organization  which  have  been  already  in  great  part  un- 


HISTORIC. 


27 


consciously  adopted.  The  economic  history  of  the  century  is 
an  almost  continuous  record  of  the  progress  of  Socialism.^ 

Socialism,  too,  has  in  the  record  of  its  internal  development 
a history  of  its  own.  Down  to  the  present  generation,  the 
aspirant  after  social  regeneration  naturally  vindicated  the  prac- 
ticability of  his  ideas  by  offering  an  elaborate  plan  with  specifi- 
cations of  a new  social  order  from  which  all  contemporary  evils 
were  eliminated.  Just  as  Plato  had  his  Republic  and  Sir 
Thomas  More  his  Utopia,  so  Baboeuf  had  his  Charter  of  Equality, 
Cabet  his  Icaria,  St.  Simon  his  Industrial  System,  and  Fourier 
his  ideal  Phalanstery.  Robert  Owen  spent  a fortune  in  press- 
ing upon  an  unbelieving  generation  his  New  Moral  World ; and 
even  Auguste  Comte,  superior  as  he  was  to  many  of  the  weak- 
nesses of  his  time,  must  needs  add  a detailed  Polity  to  his  Phil- 
osophy of  Positivism. 

The  leading  feature  of  all  these  proposals  was  what  may  be 
called  their  statical  character.  The  ideal  society  was  repre- 
sented as  in  perfectly  balanced  equilibrium,  without  need  or 
possibility  of  future  organic  alteration.  Since  their  day  we 
have  learned  that  social  reconstruction  must  not  be  gone  at  in 
this  fashion.  Owing  mainly  to  the  efforts  of  Comte,  Darwin 
and  Herbert  Spencer,  we  can  no  longer  think  of  the  ideal 
society  as  an  unchanging  state.  The  social  ideal,  from  being 
static,  has  become  dynamic.  The  necessity  of  the  constant 
growth  and  development  of  the  social  organism  has  become 
axiomatic.  No  philosopher  now  looks  for  anything  but  the 
gradual  evolution  of  the  new  order  from  the  old,  without  breach 
of  continuity  or  abrupt  change  of  the  entire  social  tissue  at  any 
point  during  the  process.  The  new  becomes  itself  old,  often  before 
it  is  consciously  recognized  as  new  ; and  history  shews  us  no 
example  of  the  sudden  substitutions  of  Utopian  and  revolution- 
ary romance. 

Though  Socialists  have  learnt  this  lesson  ^ better  than  most 

1 See  “Socialism  in  EnglancP^  (American  Economic  Association, 
vol.  iv,  part  2,  May,  1889),  in  which  a portion  of  this  essay  has  been 
embodied. 

2 “ I am  aware  that  there  are  some  who  suppose  that  our  present 
bourgeois  arrangements  must  be  totally  destroyed  and  others  substi- 
tuted almost  at  a blow.  But  however  successful  a revolution  might  be, 
it  is  certain  that  mankind  cannot  change  its  whole  nature  all  at  once. 
Break  the  old  shell,  certainly ; but  never  forget  the  fact  that  the  new 
forms  must  grow  out  of  tlie  old  (H.  M.  Hyndman,  “ Historical  Basis 
of  Socialism,'^  1883,  p.  305).. 


28 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


of  their  opponents,  the  common  criticism  of  Socialism  has  not 
yet  noted  the  change,  and  still  deals  mainly  with  the  obsolete 
Utopias  of  the  pre-evolutionary  age.  Parodies  of  the  domestic 
details  of  an  imaginary  Phalanstery,  and  homilies  on  the  failure 
of  Brook  Farm  or  Icaria,  may  be  passed  over  as  belated  and  ir- 
relevant now  that  Socialists  are  only  advocating  the  conscious 
adoption  of  a principle  of  social  organization  which  the  world 
has  already  found  to  be  the  inevitable  outcome  of  Democracy 
and  the  Industrial  Revolution.  For  Socialism  is  by  this  time  a 
wave  surging  throughout  all  Europe ; and  for  want  of  a grasp 
of  the  series  of  apparently  unconnected  events  by  which  and 
with  which  it  has  been  for  two  generations  rapidly  coming  upon 
us  — for  want,  in  short,  of  knowledge  of  its  intellectual  history, 
we  in  England  to-day  see  our  political  leaders  in  a general  atti- 
tude of  astonishment  at  the  changing  face  of  current  politics ; 
both  great  parties  drifting  vaguely  before  a nameless  undercur- 
rent which  they  fail  utterly  to  recognize  or  understand.^  With 
some  dim  impression  that  Socialism  is  one  of  the  Utopian 
dreams  they  remember  to  have  heard  comfortably  disposed  of  in 
their  academic  youth  as  the  impossible  ideal  of  Humanity-intoxi- 
cated Frenchmen,  they  go  their  ways  through  the  nineteenth 
century  as  a countryman  blunders  through  Cheapside.  One  or 
two  are  history  fanciers,  learned  in  curious  details  of  the  past: 
the  present  eludes  these  no  less  than  the  others.  They  are  so 
near  to  the  individual  events  that  they  are  blind  to  the  onward 
sweep  of  the  column.  They  cannot  see  the  forest  for  the  trees. 

History  not  only  gives  the  clue  to  the  significance  of  con- 
temporary events ; it  also  enables  us  to  understand  those  who 
liave  not  yet  found  that  clue.  We  learn  to  class  men  and  ideas 
in  a kind  of  geological  order  in  time.  The  Comte  de  Paris 
gives  us  excellent  proofs  that  in  absolute  monarchy  lies  the 
only  safety  of  social  order.  He  is  a survival : the  type  flourished 
in  the  sixteenth  century ; and  the  splendid  fossils  of  that  age 
can  be  studied  in  any  liistoric  museum.  Lord  Bramwell  will 
give  cogent  reasons  for  tlie  belief  that  absolute  freedom  of  con- 
tract, subject  to  the  trifling  exception  of  a drastic  criminal  law, 
will  ensure  a perfect  State.  His  lordship  is  a survival  from  a 
nearer  epoch:  about  1840  this  was  as  far  as  social  science  had 
got;  and  there  are  still  persons  who  have  learnt  nothing  of 

1 See  the  article  on  “ Socialism  in  Enjj^lish  Politics/'  by  William 
Clarke,  in  the  Political  Science  Quarterly , j3ecember,  1888. 


HISTORIC. 


29 


later  date.  When  I see  tlie  Ilipparion  at  South  Kensington  I 
do  not  take  Ids  unfamiliar  points  to  be  those  of  a horse  of  a 
superior  kind : 1 know  that  he  is  an  obsolete  and  superseded 
pattern,  from  which  the  horse  has  developed.  Historic  fossils 
are  more  dangerous ; for  they  are  left  at  large,  and  are  not  even 
excluded  from  Downing  Street  or  Westminster.  But  against 
the  stream  of  tendencies  they  are  ultimately  powerless.  Though 
they  sometimes  appear  victorious,  each  successive  struggle  takes 
place  further  down  the  current  which  they  believe  themselves 
to  be  resisting. 

The  main  stream  which  has  borne  European  society  towards 
Socialism  during  the  past  one  hundred  years  is  the  irresistible 
progress  of  Democracy.  De  Tocqueville  drove  and  hammered 
this  truth  into  the  reluctant  ears  of  the  Old  World  two  genera- 
tions ago  ; and  we  have  all  pretended  to  carry  it  about  as  part 
of  our  mental  furniture  ever 'since.  But  like  most  epigrammatic 
commonplaces,  it  is  not  generally  realized ; and  De  Tocque- 
ville’s  book  has,  in  due  course,  become  a classic  which  every  one 
quotes  and  nobody  reads.  The  progress  of  Democracy  is,  in 
fact,  often  imagined,  as  by  Sir  Henry  Maine,  to  be  merely  the 
substitution  of  one  kind  of  political  machinery  for  another ; and 
there  are  many  political  Democrats  to-day  who  cannot  under- 
stand why  social  or  economic  matters  should  be  mixed  up  with 
politics  at  all.  It  was  not  for  this  that  they  broke  the  power  of 
the  aristocracy : they  were  touched  not  so  much  with  love  of  the 
many  as  with  hatred  of  the  few  and,  as  has  been  acutely  said 
— though  usually  by  foolish  persons  — they  are  Badicals  merely 
because  they  are  not  themselves  lords.  But  it  will  not  long  be 
possible  for  any  man  to  persist  in  believing  that  the  political 
organization  of  society  can  be  completely  altered  without  corre- 
sponding changes  in  economic  and  social  relations.  De  Tocque- 
ville expressly  pointed  out  that  the  progress  of  Democracy 
meant  nothing  less  than  a complete  dissolution  of  the  nexus  by 
which  society  was  held  together  under  the  old  regime*  This 
dissolution  is  followed  by  a period  of  anarchic  spiritual  isolation 
of  the  individual  from  his  fellows,  and  to  that  extent  by  a 
general  denial  of  the  very  idea  of  society.  But  man  is  a social 
animal ; and  after  more  or  less  interval  there  necessarily  comes 
into  existence  a new  nexus,  differing  so  entirely  from  the  old- 

1 Even  Bentham  said  this  of  James  Mill  (Bain’s  Life  of  J.  M.,  p.  461), 
of  whom  it  was  hardly  true. 


30 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


fashioned  organization  that  the  historic  fossil  goes  about  deny- 
ing that  it  is  a nexus  at  all,  or  that  any  new  nexus  is  possible  or 
desirable.  To  him,  mostly  through  lack  of  economics,  the  prog- 
ress of  Democracy  is  nothing  more  than  the  destruction  of  old 
political  privileges ; and,  naturally  enough,  few  can  see  any 
beauty  in  mere  dissolution  and  destruction.  Those  few  are  the 
purely  political  Radicals  abhorred  of  Comte  and  Carlyle : they 
are  in  social  matters  the  empiricist  survivals  from  a pre-scien- 
tific  age. 

The  mere  Utopians,  on  the  other  hand,  who  wove  the  base- 
less fabric  of  their  visions  of  reconstructed  society  on  their  own 
private  looms,  equally  failed,  as  a rule,  to  comprehend  the 
problem  of  the  age.  They  were,  in  imagination,  resuscitated 
Joseph  the  Seconds,  benevolent  despots  who  would  have  poured 
the  old  world,  had  it  only  been  fluid,  into  their  new  moulds. 
Against  their  crude  plans  the  Statesman,  the  Radical,  and  the 
Political  Economist  were  united ; for  they  took  no  account  of 
the  blind  social  forces  which  they  could  not  control,  and  which 
went  on  inexorably  working  out  social  salvation  in  ways  un- 
suspected by  the  Utopian. 

In  the  present  Socialist  movement  these  two  streams  are 
united:  advocates  of  social  reconstruction  have  learnt  the  lesson 
of  Democracy,  and  know  that  it  is  through  the  slow  and  grad- 
ual turning  of  the  popular  mind  to  new  principles  that  social 
reorganization  bit  by  bit  comes.  All  students  of  society  who 
are  abreast  of  their  time.  Socialists  as  well  as  Individualists, 
realize  that  important  organic  changes  can  only  be  (1)  demo- 
cratic, and  thus  acceptable  to  a majority  of  the  people,  and 
prepared  for  in  the  minds  of  all ; (2)  gradual,  and  thus  causing 
no  dislocation,  however  rapid  may  be  the  rate  of  progress  ; (3) 
not  regarded  as  immoral  by  the  mass  of  the  people,  and  thus 
not  subjectively  demoralizing  to  them  ; and  (4)  in  this  country 
at  any  rate,  constitutional  and  peaceful.  Socialists  may  there- 
fore be  quite  at  one  with  Radicals  in  their  political  methods. 
Radicals,  on  the  other  hand,  are  perforce  realizing  that  mere 
political  levelling  is  insufficient  to  save  a State  from  anarchy 
and  despair.  Both  sections  have  been  driven  to  recognize  that 
the  root  of  the  difficulty  is  economic  ; and  there  is  every  day  a 
wider  concensus  that  the  inevitable  outcome  of  Democracy  is 
the  control  by  the  peo])le  themselves,  not  only  of  their  own 
political  organization,  but,  through  that  also,  of  the  main  in- 


HISTORIC. 


31 


struments  of  wealth  production  ; the  gradual  substitution  of  or- 
ganized co-operation  for  the  anarchy  of  the  competitive  struggle ; 
and  the  conse(|uent  recovery,  in  the  only  possible  way,  of  what 
John  Stuart  Mill  calls  the  enormous  share  which  the  possessors 
of  tlie  instruments  of  industry  are  able  to  take  from  the  pro- 
duce.” ^ The  economic  side  of  the  democratic  ideal  is,  in  fact, 
Socialism  itself. 

The  Disintegration  of  the  Old  Synthesis. 

At  the  middle  of  the  last  century  Western  Europe  was 
still  organized  on  a system  of  which  the  basis  was  virtually  a 
surviving  feudalism.  The  nexus  between  man  and  man  was 
essentially  a relation  of  superiority  and  inferiority.  Social 
power  still  rested  either  with  the  monarch,  or  with  the  owners 
of  large  landed  estates.  Some  inroads  had  already  been  made 
in  the  perfect  symmetry  of  the  organization,  notably  by  the 
growth  of  towns,  and  the  rise  of  the  still  comparatively  small 
trading  class ; but  the  bulk  of  the  population  was  arranged  in 
an  hierarchical  series  of  classes,  linked  to  one  another  by  the 
bond  of  Power. 

We  are  apt  to  think  of  England  as  differing  in  this  respect 
from  Continental  Europe,  and  to  imagine  that  our  popular 
freedom  was  won  in  1 688,  if  not  in  1 648,  or  even  as  far  back 
as  Magna  Charta  itself.  But  as  regards  the  people  at  large, 
this  was,  in  the  main,  merely  a difference  in  political  form. 
In  England  the  aristocratic  oligarchy  had  prevailed  over  the 
monarch  ; in  France  the  King  had  defeated  the  Fronde.  For 
the  mass  of  the  people  in  either  country  there  was  nothing  but 
obedience. 

Even  in  England  the  whole  political  administration  was 
divided  between  the  king  and  the  great  families ; and  not  one 
person  in  500  possessed  so  much  as  a vote.  As  lately  as  1881 
one  hundred  and  fifty  persons  returned  a majority  of  the  House 
of  Commons  (Molesworth,  History  of  the  Keform  Bill,”  j). 
847).  The  Church,  once  a universal  democratic  organization 
of  international  fraternity,  had  become  a mere  appanage  of 
the  landed  gentry.  The  administration  of  justice  and  of  the 
executive  government  was  entirely  in  their  hands,  while  Par- 

1 « Principles  of  Political  Economy,”  last  edition,  1865,  p.  477  (quot- 
ing from  Eeugueray. 


32 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


liameiit  was  filled  with  their  leaders  or  nominees.  No  avenue 
of  advancement  existed  for  even  exceptionally  gifted  sons  of 
the  people ; and  the  masses  found  themselves  born  into  a posi- 
tion of  lifelong  dependence  upon  a class  of  superior  birth. 

The  economic  organization  was  of  a similar  character.  Two- 
thirds  of  the  population  tilled  the  soil,  and  dwelt  in  lonely 
hamlets  scattered  about  the  still  sparsely  inhabited  country. 
Though  possessing  the  remnants  of  ancient  communal  rights, 
they  were  practically  dependent  on  the  farmers  of  the  parish, 
who  fixed  their  wages  by  a constant  tacit  conspiracy.^  The 
farmers  themselves  were  the  obedient  serfs  of  the  large  pro- 
prietors, to  whom  they  paid  a customary  rent.  Though  nomi- 
nally free  to  move,  both  farmers  and  laborers  were  practically 
fettered  to  the  manor  by  their  ignorance  and  their  poverty ; ^ 
and  though  the  lord  had  lost  the  criminal  jurisdiction  of  his 
manorial  courts,  his  powers  as  Justice  of  the  Peace  formed  a 
full  equivalent.  His  unrestrained  ownership  of  the  land  enabled 
him  to  take  for  himself  as  rent  the  whole  advantage  of  all  but 
the  very  worst  of  the  soils  in  use ; and  the  lingering  manorial 
rights  gave  him  toll  even  from  that  worst.  Throughout  the 
countryside  his  word  was  law  and  his  power  irresistible.  It 
was  a world  whose  nexus  was  might,  economic  and  political, 
tempered  only  by  custom  and  lack  of  stimulus  to  change.  The 
poor  were  not  necessarily  worse  ofP  in  material  matters  than 
they  are  now  ; the  agricultural  laborer,  indeed,  v/as  apparently 
better  off  in  1750  than  at  any  other  time  between  1450  and 
1850.®  But  it  was  a world  still  mainly  mediaeval  in  political, 
in  economic,  and  in  social  relations  ; a world  of  status  and  of 
permanent  social  inequalities  not  differing  essentially  from  the 
feudalism  of  the  past. 

The  system  had,  however,  already  begun  to  decay.  The 
rise  of  the  towns  by  the  growth  of  trade  gradually  created  new 
centres  of  independence  and  new  classes  who  broke  the  bonds 
of  innate  status.  The  intrusion  of  the  moneyed  city  classes  and 

1 Bcf erred  to  in  a celebrated  passage  by  Adam  Smith,  Wealth  of 
Nations,’'  book  1,  chap.  viii. 

2 Not  to  mention  the  restrictions  imposed  by  the  law  of  Settle- 
ment ” (13  and  14  Charles  II.,  chap.  12),  whicli  enabled  two  justices 
summarily  to  send  back  to  his  village  any  migrating  laborer. 

3 This  was  noticed  by  Malthus,  Principles  of  Political  Economy,” 
P.  225;  see  also  Prof.  Tliorold  Pogers,  “ flistor^^  of  Agriculture  4ind 
Prices,”  and  “ Six  Centuries  of  Work  and  Wages.” 


HISTORIC. 


33 


the  Indian  ‘‘  Nabobs  ’’  into  the  rural  districts  tended  to  destroy 
the  feudal  idea.  The  growth  of  new  sects  in  religion  made  fresh 
points  of  individual  resistance,  degenerating  often  into  spiritual 
anarchy  or  unsocial  quietism.  The  spread  of  learning  built  up 
a small  but  active  disintegrating  force  of  those  who  had  detected 
the  shams  around  them.  But  the  real  Perseus  who  was  to  free 
the  people  from  their  political  bondage  was  Newcomen  or  Watt, 
Hargreaves  or  Crompton,  Kay  or  Arkwright,  whichever  may 
be  considered  to  have  contributed  the  main  stroke  towards  the 
Industrial  Revolution  of  the  last  century.^  From  the  inven- 
tions of  these  man  came  the  machine  industry  with  its  innumer- 
able secondary  results  — the  Factory  System  and  the  upspring- 
ing  of  the  Northern  and  Midland  industrial  towns, and  the 
evangelization  of  tlie  waste  places  of  the  earth  by  the  sale  of 
grey  shirtings.  Throughout  one-third  of  England  the  manor 
gave  way  to  the  mill  or  the  mine  ; and  the  feudal  lord  had  to 
slacken  his  hold  of  political  and  social  power  in  order  to  give 
full  play  to  the  change  which  enriched  him  with  boundless  rents 
and  mining  royalties.  And  so  it  happened  in  England  that  the 
final  collapse  of  mediasvalism  came,  not  by  the  Great  Rebellion 
nor  by  the  Whig  Treason  of  1688,  nor  yet  by  the  rule  of  the 
Great  Commoner,  but  by  the  Industrial  Revolution  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  which  created  the  England  of  to-day. 
Within  a couple  of  generations  the  squire  faded  away  before 
the  mill-owner ; and  feudalism  lingered  thenceforth  only  in  the 
rapidly  diminishing  rural  districts,  and  in  the  empty  remnants 
of  ceremonial  organization.  The  mediaeval  arrangement,  in 
fact,  could  not  survive  the  fall  of  the  cottage  industry  ; and  it  is, 
fundamentally,  the  use  of  new  motors  which  has  been  for  a 
generation  destroying  the  individualist  conception  of  property. 
The  landlord  and  the  capitalist  are  both  finding  that  the  steam- 
engine  is  a Frankenstein  which  they  had  better  not  have  raised; 
for  with  it  comes  inevitably  urban  Democracy,  the  study  of 
Political  Economy,  and  Socialism. 

The  event  which  brought  to  a head  the  influences  making  for 

1 Further  detail  will  be  found  in  the  following  essay.  See  also  Arnold 
Toynbee's  ‘‘Industrial  Revolution.'’ 

2 Between  1801-1845  the  population  of  Manchester  grew  109  per 
cent,  Glasgow  108  per  cent,  Liverpool  100  per  cent,  and  Leeds  99  per 
cent  (Report  of  Commissioners  on  State  of  Health  of  Large  Towns^ 
1843-45). 


3t 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


political  change  was  the  French  Kevolution.  The  fall  of  the 
Bastille  was  hailed  by  all  who  had  been  touched  by  the  new 
ideas.  How  much  the  greatest  event  it  is  that  ever  happened 
in  the  world!  and  how  much  the  best!”  wrote  Charles  James 
Fox.^  It  shewed,  or  seemed  to  shew,  to  men  that  a genuine 
social  reconstruction  was  not  only  desirable,  but  possible. 
The  National  Assembly,  respectable  old  oligarchy  as  it  was, 
pointed  the  way  to  legislative  fields  not  even  yet  completely 
worked  out. 

When  the  rulers  of  England  perceived  that  in  France  at 
least  Humpty  Dumpty  was  actually  down,  the  effect  at  first 
was  to  tighten  the  existing  organization.  The  mildest  agita- 
tion was  put  down  with  a cruelly  strong  hand.  The  Whig 
party  in  the  House  of  Commons  sank  to  half-a-dozen  members. 
Prices  were  kept  up  and  wages  down,  while  the  heaviest 
possible  load  of  taxation  was  imposed  on  the  suffering  people. 
Then  came  the  Peace,  and  Castlereagh’s  AAhite  Terror,” 
culminating  in  the  ‘^massacre  of  Peterloo”  (181 9)  and  Lord 
Sidmouth’s  infamous  “ Six  Acts.”  But  the  old  order  was 
doomed.  The  suicide  of  Castlereagh  was  not  only  the  end  of 
tlie  man,  but  also  the  sign  of  the  collapse  of  the  system.  With 
a series  of  political  wrenches  there  came  the  Kepeal  of  the 
Test  and  Corporation  Acts  (1828),  Catholic  Emancipation 
(1829),  the  beginnings  of  legal  and  administrative  reform,  and 
finally  the  great  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  by  which  the  reign  of  the 
middle  class  superseded  aristocratic  rule.  But  the  people  were 
no  more  enfranchised  than  they  had  been  before.  The  Factory 
had  beaten  the  Manor  for  the  benefit,  not  of  the  factory  hand, 
but  of  tlie  millowner.  Democracy  was  at  the  gates ; but  it 
was  still  on  the  wrong  side  of  them.  Its  entry,  however,  was 
only  a matter  of  time.  Since  1832  English  political  history  is 
the  record  of  the  reluctant  enfranchisement  of  one  class  after 
another,  by  mere  force  of  the  tendencies  of  the  age.  None  of 
these  enfranchised  classes  has  ever  sincerely  desired  to  admit 
new  voters  to  share  the  privileges  and  submerge  the  power 
which  it  had  won ; but  each  political  party  in  turn  has  been 
driven  to  “ shoot  Niagara  ” in  order  to  compete  with  its  oppo- 
nents. The  Wliig  Bill  of  1832  enfranchised  the  middle-class 
for  Parliament : tlie  Municipal  Corporations  Act  of  1835  gave 


1 W.  J.  Lecky,  History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,”  vol.  v,  p.  453. 


HISTORIC. 


35 


them  the  control  of  the  provincial  towns.  After  a genera- 
tion of  agitation,  it  w^as  ultimately  the  Tory  party  which  gave 
the  townspeople  in  1867  Household  Suifrage.  Eleven  years 
later  a Conservative  majority  passed  Sir  Charles  Dilke’s  Act 
enfranchising  the  tenement  occupier  (1878).  In  1885  the 
Liberals,  intending  permanently  to  ruin  their  opponents,  gave 
the  vote  to  the  agricultural  laborer ; and  last  year  (1888)  it  was 
the  Tories,  not  to  be  outdone,  who  gave  him  the  control  of  the 
local  administration  of  the  counties,  and  placed  the  government 
of  London  in  the  hands  of  a popularly  elected  council.  Neither 
party  can  claim  much  credit  for  its  reform  bills,  extorted  as 
they  have  been,  not  by  belief  in  Democracy,  but  by  fear  of  the 
opposing  faction.  Even  now  the  citizen  is  tricked  out  of  his 
vote  by  every  possible  legal  and  administrative  technicality ; 
so  that  more  than  one-third  of  our  adult  men  are  unenfran- 
chised,^ together  with  the  whole  of  the  other  sex.  Neither  the 
Conservative  party  nor  the  self-styled  Party  of  the  Masses  ’’ 
gives  proof  of  any  real  desire  to  give  the  vote  to  this  not  in- 
considerable remnant ; but  both  sides  pay  lip-homage  to  Demo- 
cracy ; and  everyone  knows  that  it  is  merely  a waiting  race 
between  them  as  to  which  shall  be  driven  to  take  the  next 
step.  The  virtual  completion  of  the  political  revolution  is 
already  in  sight ; and  no  more  striking  testimony  can  be  given 
of  the  momentum  of  the  new  ideas  which  the  Fall  of  the  Bas- 
tille effectually  spread  over  the  world  than  this  democratic 
triumph  in  England,  within  less  than  a century,  over  the  politi- 
cal mediaevalism  of  ten  centuries  growth. 

The  full  significance  of  this  triumph  is  as  yet  unsuspected  by 
the  ordinary  politician.  The  industrial  evolution  has  left  the 
stranger  a landless  stranger  in  his  own  country.  The  political 
evolution  is  rapidly  making  him  its  ruler.  Samson  is  feeling 
for  his  grip  on  the  pillars. 

The  Period  of  Anarchy. 

The  result  of  the  industrial  revolution,  with  its  dissolution  of 
mediaBvalism  amid  an  impetuous  reaction  against  the  bureau- 
cratic tyranny  of  the  past,  was  to  leave  all  the  new  elements  of 

1 The  number  of  registered  electors  at  tlie  date  of  the  last  Election 
(1880)  was  5,707,828,  out  of  au  adult  male  population  of  over  nine 
millions. 


36 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


society  in  a state  of  unrestrained  license.  Individual  liberty, 
in  the  sense  of  freedom  to  privately  appropriate  the  means  of 
production,  reached  its  maximum  at  the  commencement  of  the 
century.  No  sentimental  regulations  hindered  the  free  employ- 
ment of  land  and  capital  to  the  greatest  possible  pecuniary  gain 
of  the  proprietors,  however  many  lives  of  men,  women  and 
children  were  used  up  in  the  process.  Ignorant  or  unreflecting 
capitalists  still  speak  of  that  te?’rible  time  with  exultation.  “It 
was  not  five  per  center  ten  per  cent/’  says  one,  “but  thousands 
per  cent  that  made  the  fortunes  of  Lancashire.” 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  and  those  who  agree  in  his  worship  of 
Individualism  ^ apparently  desire  to  bring  back  the  legal  position 
which  made  possible  the  “ white  slavery  ” of  which  the  “ sins  of 
legislators  ” have  deprived  us ; but  no  serious  attempt  has  ever 
been  made  to  get  repealed  any  one  of  the  Factory  Acts. 
Women  working  half  naked  in  the  coal  mines  ; young  children 
dragging  trucks  all  day  in  the  foul  atmosphere  of  the  under- 
ground galleries ; infants  bound  to  the  loom  for  fifteen  hours  in 
the  heated  air  of  the  cotton  mill,  and  kept  awake  only  by  the 
onlooker’s  lash ; hours  of  labor  for  all,  young  and  old,  limited 
only  by  the  utmost  capabilities  of  physical  endurance  ; complete 
absence  of  the  sanitary  provisions  necessary  to  a rapidly  grow- 
ing population:  these  and  other  nameless  iniquities  will  be 
found  recorded  as  the  results  of  freedom  of  contract  and  com- 
plete laisser  faire  in  the  impartial  pages  of  successive  blue-book 
reports.^  But  the  Liberal  mill-owners  of  the  day,  aided  by 
some  of  the  political  economists,  stubbornly  resisted  every 
attempt  to  interfere  with  their  freedom  to  use  “ their  ” capital 
and  “ their  ” hands  as  they  found  most  profitable,  and  (like 
their  successors  to-day)  predicted  of  each  restriction  as  it 

1 Few,  however,  of  Mr.  Spencer’s  followers  appear  to  realize  that  he 
presupposes  Land  Nationalization  as  the  necessary  condition  of  an  In- 
dividualist community  (see  “Social  Statics,”  passm). 

2 It  is  sometimes  asserted  nowadays  that  the  current  descriptions  of 
factory  life  under  the  regime  of  freedom  of  contract  are  much  exag- 
gerated. This  is  not  the  case.  The  horrors  revealed  in  the  reports  of 
official  enquiries  even  exceed  those  commonly  quoted.  For  a full  ac- 
count of  the  legislation,  and  the  facts  on  which  it  was  founded,  see  Von 
l^lener’s  “ English  Factory  Legislation.”  The  chief  official  reports  are 
those  of  tlie  llouse  of  Commons  Committee  of  1815-6,  Hou.se  of  Lords 
Committee,  1819,  and  Koyal  Commission,  1840.  Marx  (“Capital”) 
gives  many  other  references.  See  also  F.  Engel’s  “ Condition  of  the 
English  AYorking  Classes.” 


HISTOIUC. 


3T 


arrived  that  it  must  inevitably  destroy  the  export  trade  and 
deprive  them  of  all  profit  whatsoever. 

But  this  “ acute  outbreak  of  individualism,  uncliecked  by  the 
old  restraints,  and  invested  with  almost  a religious  sanction  by 
a certain  soulless  school  of  writers,’’  ^ was  inevitable,  after  the 
economic  Jblundering  of  governments  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
Prior  to  the  scientific  investigation  of  economic  laws,  men  had 
naturally  interfered  in  social  arrangements  with  very  unsatisfac- 
tory results.  A specially  extravagant  or  a specially  thrifty 
king  debased  the  currency,  and  then  was  surprised  to  hnd  that 
in  spite  of  stringent  prohibitions  prices  went  up  and  all  good 
money  fled  the  country.  Wise  statesmen,  to  keep  up  wages, 
encouraged  the  woollen  manufactures  of  England  by  ruining 
those  of  Ireland,  and  were  then  astonished  to  find  English 
wages  cut  by  Irish  pauper  immigration.  Benevolent  parlia- 
ments attempted  to  raise  the  worker’s  income  by  poor  law  allow- 
ances, and  then  found  that  they  had  lowered  it.  Christian  kings 
eliminated  half  the  skilled  artisans  from  their  kingdoms,  and 
then  found  that  they  had  ruined  the  rest  by  disabling  industry. 
Government  inspectors  ordered  how  the  cloth  should  be  woven, 
what  patterns  should  be  made,  and  how  broad  the  piece  should 
be,  until  the  manufacturers  in  despair  cried  out  merely  to  be  let 
alone. 

When  the  early  economists  realized  how  radically  w^ong  had 
been  even  the  well-meant  attempts  to  regulate  economic  rela- 
tions by  legislation,  and  how  generally  these  attempts  multi- 
plied private  monopolies,  they  leaned  in  their  deductions  heavily 
towards  completein  dividual  liberty.  The  administration  of  a 
populous  state  is  such  a very  difficult  matter,  and  when  done 
on  false  principles  is  so  certain  to  be  badly  done,  that  it  was 
natural  to  advocate  rather  no  administration  at  all  than  the 
interference  of  ignorant  and  interested  bunglers.  Nature,  glori- 
fied by  the  worship  of  a famous  school  of  Erench  philosophers 
and  English  poets,  and  as  yet  unsuspected  of  the  countless 
crimes  of  the  struggle  for  existence,”  appeared  at  least  more 
trustworthy  than  Castlereagh.  Beal  Democratic  administration 
seemed,  in  the  time  of  the  ‘AYliite  Terror,”  and  even  under 
the  milder  Whig  hypocrisy  which  succeeded  it,  hopelessly  re- 
mote. The  best  thing  to  work  and  fight  for  was,  apparently, 

1 Prof.  II.  S.  Foxwell  (University  College  London,  p.  249  of  Essay  on 
the  “ Claims  of  Labor  ” (Edinburgh : Co-operative  Printing  Company, 


38 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


the  reduction  to  impotence  and  neutrality  of  all  the  Powers 
that  Be.”  Their  influence  being  for  the  moment  hostile  to  the 
people,  it  behooved  the  people  to  destroy  their  influence  alto- 
gether. And  so  grew  up  the  doctrine  of  what  Professor  Huxley 
has  since  called  ‘^Administrative  Nihilism.”  It  was  the  apo- 
theosis of  Laisser  Faire,  Laisser  Aller.  • 

Though  the  economists  have  since  had  to  bear  all  the  blame 
for  what  nearly  everyone  now  perceives  to  have  been  an 
economic  and  social  mistake,  neither  Hume  nor  Adam  Smith 
caught  the  laisser  faire  fever  to  as  great  an  extent  as  their 
French  contempories  and  imitators.  The  English  industrial 
position  was  not  the  same  as  that  of  France.  The  “mercantile 
system”  by  which,  as  by  “Fair  Trade”  to-day,  foreign  trade 
was  to  be  regulated  and  encouraged  according  as  it  tended  to 
cause  the  stock  of  goods,  especially  coin  and  bullion,  to  increase 
in  the  country,  was  the  same  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel. 
But  our  political  revolution  had  already  been  partly  accomplished ; 
and  the  more  obvious  shackles  of  feudalism  had  been  long  since 
struck  off.  No  Englishman  was  compelled  to  grind  his  corn 
at  the  mill  of  the  lord  of  the  manor  ; ^ to  give  up  unpaid  days 
to  plough  the  lord’s  field  and  cart  the  lord’s  hay ; or  to  spend 
his  nights  in  beating  the  waters  of  the  lord’s  marsh  so  that  the 
croaking  of  the  frogs  might  not  disturb  the  lord’s  repose.  Our 
labor  dues  had  long  before  been  commuted  for  money  payments  ; 
and  these  had  become  light  owing  to  the  change  in  currency 
values.  Our  apprenticeship  laws  and  guild  regulations  were 
becoming  rapidly  inoperative.  No  vexatious  excise  or  gabelle 
hampered  our  manufactures. 

Tyranny  there  was,  enough  and  to  spare,  and  economic 
spoliation ; but  they  did  not  take  the  form  of  personal  inter- 
ferences and  indignities.  The  non-noble  Frenchman  was  bond, 
and  he  knew  it ; the  middle-class  Englishman  to  a great  extent 

1 This  statement,  though  generally  true  of  England,  is  not  absolutely 
so.  It  needed  an  Act  of  Parliament  in  1758  (32  George  II,  c.  61)  to  free 
the  inhabitants  of  the  “ village  ” of  Manchester  from  the  obligation  to 
grind  all  their  corn  and  grain  at  the  manorial  watermills  (Clifford’s 
“ History  of  Private  Bill  Legislation,”  vol.  ii,  p.  478).  Even  so  late  as 
1809  they  liad  to  obtain  the  consent  of  Sir  Oswald  Mosley,  the  lord  of 
the  manor,  before  a company  could  be  incorporated  to  provide  a water 
supply  {Ibid.,  p.  480).  Leeds  was  theoretically  compelled  to  grind  its 
corn,  grain  and  malt  at  the  lord’s  mills  down  to  1839,  and  actually  had 
then  to  pay  £13,000  to  extinguish  this  feudal  “ due  ” {Ibid.,  p.  498). 


HISTOKIO. 


39 


thought  himself  free : his  economic  servitude,  though  it  galled 
him,  was  not  clearly  distinguishable  from  the  niggardliness  of 
nature.  The  landlord  in  France  was  an  obvious  tyrant:  here 
he  certainly  caused  (by  the  abstraction  of  the  economic  rent)  an 
artificial  barrenness  of  the  workers’  labor ; but  the  barrenness 
was  so  old  and  had  been  so  constant  that  it  was  not  seen  to  be 
artificial,  and  was  not  resented  as  such.  No  peasant  rebels 
against  the  blight.  Accordingly,  we  have,  since  1381,  never  had 
in  England  a burning  of  the  chateaux ; and,  accordingly,  too, 
Adam  Smith  is  no  complete  champion  of  laisser  faire^  though 
his  great  work  was  effective  mainly  in  sweeping  away  foreign 
trade  restrictions  and  regulations,  and  in  giving  viability  to 
labor  by  establishing  the  laborer’s  geographical  freedom  to  move 
and  to  enter  into  the  wage  contract  when  and  where  he  best 
could.  The  English  economists,  stopping  illogically  short  of 
the  complete  freedom  preached  by  Rousseau  and  Godwin  and 
the  scientific  Anarchists  of  to-day,  advocated  just  as  much 
freedom  as  sufficed  to  make  the  fortunes  of  Lancashire 
capitalists  and  to  create  the  modern  proletariat.  The  Utili- 
tarians are  appropriately  coupled  with  the  Political  Economists 
in  connexion  with  this  phase  of  thought.  Although  Adam 
Smith  did  not  belong  to  their  school,  almost  the  whole  work  of 
developing  and  popularizing  the  new  science  was  done  by  them. 
It  was  not  until  after  the  Peace  — when  Bentham  and  James 
Mill  were  in  full  vigor,  and  soon  to  be  reinforced  by  Austin, 
Yilliers,  Jolm  Stuart  Mill,  Roebuck,  Grote,  Ricardo,  and 
others  — that  Political  Economy  became  a force  in  England. 
The  motive  and  enthusiasm  for  the  new  science  undoubtedly 
came  from  the  Utilitarian  ethics.  If  the  sole  masters  of  man 
were  pleasure  and  pain,  the  knowledge  of  the  natural  laws 
expressing  the  course  of  social  action,  and  thus  regulating 
pleasure  and  pain,  became  of  vital  importance.  If  it  is  God’s 
will,  as  Paley  and  Austin  asserted,  that  men  should  seek  for 
happiness,  than  the  study  of  how  to  obtain  economic  comfort 
becomes  a sacred  duty,  and  has  ever  been  so  regarded  by  such 
rational  divines  as  Malthus,  Chalmers,  Maurice,  Kingsley,  and 
the  young  High  Church  party  of  to-day.  Christianity  and  the 
course  of  modern  thought  began  to  join  hands  ; and  we  may  see 
in  Bishop  Berkeley  and  Paley  the  forerunners  of  such  a develop- 
ment as  the  Guild  of  St.  Matthew.^ 

1 See  its  organ,  the  Church  Reformer,  London*  8 Duke  Street, 
Adelphi. 


40 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


The  Utilitarian  philosophy,  besides  aiding  in  the  populariza- 
tion of  economic  science,  strongly  influenced  its  early  character. 
The  tendency  to  Laisser  Faire  inherited  from  the  country  and 
century  of  upheaval  and  revolt  against  authority,  was  fostered 
by  Bentham’s  destructive  criticism  of  all  the  venerable  relics 
of  the  past.  What  is  the  use  of  it,  he  asked,  of  every  shred 
of  social  institution  then  existing.  What  is  the  nett  result  of 
its  being  upon  individual  happiness  ? Few  of  the  laws  and 
customs  — little,  indeed,  of  the  social  organization  of  that  time 
could  stand  this  test.  England  was  covered  with  rotten  sur- 
vivals from  bygone  circumstances  ; the  whole  administration 
was  an  instrument  for  class  domination  and  parasite  nurture ; 
the  progress  of  the  industrial  revolution  was  rapidly  making 
obsolete  all  laws,  customs,  proverbs,  maxims,  and  nursery  tales  ; 
and  the  sudden  increase  of  population  was  baffling  all  expecta- 
tions and  disconcerting  all  arrangements.  At  last  it  came  to 
be  carelessly  accepted  as  the  teaching  both  of  philosophy  and  of 
experience  that  every  man  must  fight  for  himself ; and  the  devil 
take  the  hindmost”  became  the  accepted  social  creed  of  what 
was  still  believed  to  be  a Christian  nation.  Utilitarianism  be- 
came the  Protestantism  of  Sociology,  and  ‘‘  how  to  make  for 
self  and  family  the  best  of  both  worlds  ” was  assumed  to  be  the- 
duty,  as  it  certainly  was  the  aim,  of  every  practical  Englishman. 

The  Intellectual  and  Moral  Revolt,  and  its  Politi- 
cal Outcome. 

The  new  creed  of  Philosophic  Radicalism  ” did  not  have 
matters  all  its  own  way.  Its  doctrines  might  suit  millowners 
and  merchant  princes,  and  all  who  were  able  to  enjoy  the  de- 
light of  their  own  strength  in  the  battle  of  life.  But  it  was 
essentially  a creed  of  Murdstones  and  Gradgrinds ; and  the  first 
revolt  came  from  the  artistic  side.  The  “nest  of  singing  birds” 
at  the  Lakes  would  have  none  of  it,  tiiough  De  Quincey  worked 
out  its  abstract  economics  in  a manner  still  unsurpassed.  Cole- 
ridge (lid  his  best  to  drown  it  in  German  Transcendentalism. 
Robert  Owen  and  his  following  of  enthusiastic  communistic 
co-operators  steadfastly  held  up  a loftier  ideal.  The  great  mass 
of  the  wage  earners  never  bowed  the  knee  to  the  principles  upon 
which  the  current  “ White  Slavery  ” was  maintained.  But  the 
first  man  who  really  made  a dint  in  the  individualist  shield  was 


HISTOKIC. 


41 


Carlyle,  who  knew  how  to  compel  men  to  listen  to  him.  Oftener 
wrong  than  right  in  his  particular  proposals,  he  managed  to  keep 
alive  the  faith  in  nobler  ends  than  making  a fortune  in  this 
world  and  saving  one’s  soul  in  the  next.  Then  came  Maurice, 
Kingsley,  Ruskin,  and  others  who  dared  to  impeach  the  current 
middle  class  cult;  until  finally,  through  Comte  and  John  Stuart 
Mill,  Darwin  and  Herbert  Spencer,  the  conception  of  the  Social 
Organism  has  at  last  penetrated  to  the  minds,  though  not  yet 
to  the  books,  even  of  our  professors  of  Political  Economy. 

Meanwhile,  caring  for  none  of  these  things,  the  practical  man 
had  been  irresistibly  driven  in  the  same  direction.  In  the  teeth 
of  the  current  Political  Economy,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts 
of  the  millowning  Liberals,  England  was  compelled  to  put  forth 
her  hand  to  succor  and  protect  her  weaker  members.  Any 
number  of  Local  Improvement  Acts,  Drainage  Acts,  Truck 
Acts,  Mines  Regulation  Acts,  Factory  Acts,  Public  Health  Acts, 
Adulteration  Acts,  were  passing  into  law.^  The  liberty  of  the 
property  owner  to  oj^press  the  propertyless  by  the  levy  of  the 
economic  tribute  of  rent  and  interest  began  to  be  circumscribed, 
pared  away,  obstructed  and  forbidden  in  various  directions. 
Slice  after  slice  has  gradually  been  cut  from  the  profits  of  capi- 
tal, and  therefore  from  its  selling  value,  by  socially  beneficial  re- 
strictions on  its  user’s  liberty  to  do  as  he  liked  with  it.  Slice 
after  slice  has  been  cut  off  the  incomes  from  rent  and  interest  by 
the  gradual  shifting  of  taxation  from  consumers  to  persons  en- 
joying incomes  above  the  average  of  the  kingdom.*^  Step  by 

1 The  beginning  of  factory  legislation  is  to  be  found  in  the  Morals 
and  Health  Act/’  42  Geo.  Ill,  c.  73  (1802).  Others  followed  in  1819, 
1825,  and  1831 ; but  their  provisions  were  almost  entirely  evaded  owing 
to  the  absence  of  inspectors.  After  the  Reform  Bill  more  stringent 
enactments  in  1833,  1844,  and  1847  secured  some  improvement.  The 
Act  of  1878  consolidated  the  law  on  the  subject.  The  Radical  and 
Socialist  proposals  for  further  development  in  this  direction  will  be 
found  at  page  55.  Nearly  400  Local  Improvement  Acts  had  been 
passed  up  to  1845.  In  the  succeeding  years  various  general  Acts  were 
passed,  which  were  henceforth  incorporated  by  reference  in  all  local 
Acts.  The  first  “Public  Health  Act’'  was  passed  in  1848;  and  suc- 
cessive extensions  were  given  to  this  restrictive  legislation  with  sanitary 
ends  in  1855,  1858,  1861,  and  1866.  Consolidating  Acts  in  1871,  and 
finally  in  1875,  complete  the  present  sanitary  code,  which  now  forms  a 
thick  volume  of  restrictions  upon  the  free  use  of  land  and  capital. 

2 The  minimum  income  chargeable  to  Income  Tax  (L150)  closely  cor- 
responds with  the  average  family  income.  See  Eabian  Tract,  No  5, 
“Pacts  for  Socialists." 


42 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


step  the  political  power  and  political  organization  of  the  country 
have  been  used  for  industrial  ends,  until  to-day  the  largest  em- 
ployer of  labor  is  one  of  the  ministers  of  the  Crown  (the  Post- 
master-General) ; and  almost  every  conceivable  trade  is,  some- 
where or  other,  carried  on  by  parish,  municipality,  or  the 
National  Government  itself  without  the  intervention  of  any 
middleman  or  capitalist.  The  theorists  who  denounce  the  taking 
by  the  community  into  its  own  hands  of  the  organization  of  its 
own  labor  as  a thing  economically  unclean,  repugnant  to  the 
sturdy  individual  independence  of  Englishmen,  and  as  yet  outside 
the  sphere  of  practical  politics,  seldom  have  the  least  suspicion 
of  the  extent  to  which  it  has  already  been  carried.^  Besides  our 
international  relations  and  the  army,  navy,  police,  and  the  courts 
of  justice,  the  community  now  carries  on  for  itself,  in  some  part 
or  another  of  these  islands,  the  post-office,  telegraphs,  carriage 
of  small  commodities,  coinage,  surveys,  the  regulation  of  the 
currency  and  note  issue,  the  provision  of  weights  and  measures, 
the  making,  sweeping,  lighting,  and  repairing  of  streets,  roads, 
and  bridges,  life  insurance,  the  grant  of  annuities,  shipbuilding, 
stockbroking,  banking,  farming,  and  money-lending.  It  provides 
for  many  thousands  of  us  from  birth  to  burial — midwifery,  nursery, 
education,  board  and  lodging,  vaccination,  medical  attendance, 
medicine,  public  worship,  amusements,  and  interment.  It  fur- 
nishes and  maintains  its  own  museums,  parks,  art  galleries, 
libraries,  concert-halls,  roads,  streets,  bridges,  markets,  slaughter- 
houses, fire-engines,  lighthouses,  pilots,  ferries,  surf  boats,  steam- 
tugs,  life-boats,  cemeteries,  public  baths,  washhouses,  pounds, 
harbors,  piers,  wharves,  hospitals,  dispensaries,  gasworks,  water- 
works, tramways,  telegraph  cables,  allotments,  cow  meadows, 
artizans’  dwellings,  schools,  churches,  and  reading-rooms.  It 
carries  on  and  publishes  its  own  researches  in  geology,  meteorol- 
ogy, statistics,  zoology,  geography,  and  even  theology.  In  our 
Colonies  the  English  Government  further  allows  and  encourages 
the  communities  to  provide  for  themselves  railways,  canals,  pawn- 
broking, theatres,  forestry,  cinchona  farms,  irrigation,  leper 
villages,  casinos,  bathing  establishments,  and  immigration,  and 
to  deal  in  ballast,  guano,  quinine,  opium,  salt,  and  what  not. 
Every  one  of  these  functions,  with  those  of  the  army,  navy, 
police,  and  courts  of  justice,  were  at  one  time  left  to  private 

^ See  The  Progress  of  Socialism.”  (London:  The  Modern  Press,  13 
Paternoster  Bow,  E.  C.  Price  One  Penny.) 


HISTORIC. 


43 


enterprise,  and  were  a source  of  legitimate  individual  investment 
of  capital.  Step  by  step  the  community  has  absorbed  them, 
wholly  or  partially ; and  the  area  of  private  exploitation  has 
been  lessened.  Parallel  with  this  progressive  nationalization  or 
municipalization  of  industry,  there  has  gone  on  the  elimination 
of  the  purely  personal  element  in  business  management.  The 
older  economists  doubted  whether  anything  but  banking  and  in- 
surance could  be  carried  on  by  joint  stock  enterprise  : now  every 
conceivable  industry,  down  to  baking  and  milk-selling,  is  suc- 
cessfully managed  by  the  salaried  officers  of  large  corporations 
of  idle  shareholders.  More  than  one-third  of  the  whole  business 
of  England,  measured  by  the  capital  employed,^  is  now  done  by 
joint  stock  companies,  whose  shareholders  could  be  expropriated 
by  the  community  with  no  more  dislocation  of  the  industries 
carried  on  by  them  than  is  caused  by  the  daily  purchase  of  shares 
on  the  Stoqk  Exchange. 

Besides  its  direct  supersession  of  private  enterprise,  the 
State  now  registers,  inspects,  and  controls  nearly  all  the  indus- 
trial functions  which  it  has  not  yet  absorbed.  In  addition  to 
births,  marriages,  deaths,  and  electors,  the  State  registers  all 
solicitors,  barristers,  notaries,  patent  agents,  brokers,  newspaper 
proprietors,  playing-card  makers,  brewers,  bankers,  seamen, 
captains,  mates,  doctors,  cabmen,  hawkers,  pawnbrokers,  tobac- 
conists, distillers,  plate  dealers,  game  dealers ; all  insurance 
companies,  friendly  societies,  endowed  schools  and  charities, 
limited  companies,  lands,  houses,  deeds,  bills  of  sale,  composi- 
tions, ships,  arms,  dogs,  cabs,  omnibuses,  books,  plays,  pam- 
phlets, newspapers,  raw  cotton  movements,  trademarks,  and  pa- 
tents ; lodging-houses,  public-houses,  refreshment-houses,  thea- 
tres, music-halls,  places  of  worship,  elementary  schools,  and 
dancing  rooms. 

Nor  is  the  registration  a mere  form.  Most  of  the  foregoing 
are  also  inspected  and  criticised,  as  are  all  railways,  tramways, 
ships,  mines,  factories,  canal-boats,  public  conveyances,  fish- 
eries, slaughter-houses,  dairies,  milkshops,  bakeries,  baby-farms, 
gasmeters,  schools  of  anatomy,  vivisection  laboratories,  explo- 
sive works,  Scotch  herrings,  and  common  lodging-houses. 

The  inspection  is  often  detailed  and  rigidly  enforced.  The 
State  in  most  of  the  larger  industrial  operations  prescribes  the 

1 See  Capital  and  Land^^  (Fabian  Tract,  No.  7),  page  7. 


44 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


age  of  the  worker,  the  hours  of  work,  the  amount  of  air,  light, 
cubic  space,  heat,  lavatory  accommodation,  holidays  and  meal- 
times ; where,  when  and  how  wages  shall  be  paid ; how  ma- 
chinery staircases,  lift  holes,  mines  and  quarries  are  to  be 
fenced  and  guarded ; how  and  when  the  plant  shall  be  cleaned, 
repaired  and  worked.  Even  the  kind  of  package  in  which 
some  articles  shall  be  sold  is  duly  prescribed,  so  that  the 
individual  capitalist  shall  take  no  advantage  of  his  position. 
On  every  side  he  is  being  registered,  inspected,  controlled  and 
eventually  superseded  by  the  community ; and  in  the  meantime 
he  is  compelled  to  cede  for  public  purposes  an  ever-increasing 
share  of  his  rent  and  interest. 

Even  in  the  fields  still  abandoned  to  private  enterprise,  its 
operations  are  thus  every  day  more  closely  limited,  in  order 
that  the  anarchic  competition  of  private  greed,  which  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century  was  set  up  as  the  only  infallible 
beneficent  principle  of  social  action,  may  not  utterly  destroy 
the  State.  All  this  has  been  done  by  “practical”  men,  igno- 
rant, that  is  to  say,  of  any  scientific  sociology,  believing 
Socialism  to  be  the  most  foolish  of  dreams,  and  absolutely 
ignoring,  as  they  thought,  all  grandiloquent  claims  for  social 
reconstruction.  Such  is  the  irresistible  sweep  of  social  ten- 
dencies, that  in  their  every  act  they  worked  to  bring  about 
the  very  Socialism  they  despised ; and  to  destroy  the  In- 
dividualistic faith  which  they  still  professed.  They  builded 
better  than  they  knew. 

It  must  by  no  means  be  supposed  that  these  beginnings  of 
social  reorganization  have  been  effected,  or  the  proposals  for 
their  extension  brought  to  the  front,  without  the  conscious 
efforts  of  individual  reformers.  The  “ Zeitgeist  ” is  potent ; 
but  it  does  not  pass  Acts  of  Parliament  without  legislators, 
or  erect  municipal  libraries  without  town  councillors.  Though 
our  decisions  are  moulded  by  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  and 
the  environment  at  least  roughhews  our  ends,  shape  them  as 
we  will ; yet  each  generation  decides  for  itself.  It  still  rests 
with  the  individual  to  resist  or  promote  the  social  evolution, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  according  to  his  character  and 
information.  The  importance  of  complete  consciousness  of  the 
social  tendencies  of  the  age  lies  in  the  fact  that  its  existence 
and  comprehensiveness  often  determine  the  expediency  of  our 
particular  action  : we  move  with  less  resistance  with  the  stream 
than  against  it. 


HISTORIC. 


45 


The  general  failure  to  realize  the  extent  to  which  our  un- 
conscious Socialism  has  already  proceeded  — a failure  whicli 
causes  much  time  and  labor  to  be  wasted  in  uttering  and 
elaborating  on  paper  the  most  ludicrously  unpractical  aiiti- 
Socialistic  demonstrations  of  the  impossibility  of  matters  of  daily 
occurrence  — is  due  to  the  fact  that  few  know  anything  of  local 
administration  outside  their  own  town.  It  is  the  municipalities 
which  have  done  most  to  socialize  ’’  our  industrial  life ; and 
the  municipal  history  of  the  century  is  yet  unwritten.  A few 
particulars  may  here  be  given  as  to  this  progressive  munici- 
palization ” of  industry.  Most  of  us  know  that  the  local  govern- 
ments have  assumed  the  care  of  the  roads,  streets  and  bridges, 
once  entirely  abandoned  to  individual  enterprise,  as  well  as  the 
lighting  and  cleansing  of  all  public  thoroughfares,  and  the 
provision  of  sewers,  drains  and  storm-water  courses.”  It  is, 
perhaps,  not  so  generally  known  that  no  less  than  £7,500,000 
is  annually  expended  on  these  services  in  England  and  Wales 
alone,  being  about  five  per  cent  of  the  rent  of  the  country. 
The  provision  of  markets,  fairs,  harbors,  piers,  docks,  hospitals, 
cemeteries  and  burial-grounds  is  still  shared  with  private  capi- 
talists ; but  those  in  public  hands  absorb  nearly  £2,000,000 
annually.  Parks,  pleasure  grounds,  libraries,  museums,  baths 
and  washhouses  cost  the  public  funds  over  half  a million  sterling. 
All  these  are,  however,  comparatively  unimportant  services.  It 
is  in  the  provision  of  gas,  water  and  tramways  that  local 
authorities  organize  labor  on  a large  scale.  Practically  half  the 
gas  consumers  in  the  kingdom  are  supplied  by  public  gas  works, 
which  exist  in  168  separate  localities,  with  an  annual  expenditure 
of  over  three  millions.^  It  need  hardly  be  added  that  the  ad- 
vantage to  the  public  is  immense,  in  spite  of  the  enormous  price 
paid  for  the  work  in  many  instances  ; and  that  the  further 
municipalization  of  the  gas  industry  is  proceeding  with  great 
rapidity,  no  fewer  than  twelve  local  authorities  having  obtained 
loans  for  the  purpose  (and  one  for  electric  lighting)  in  a single 
year  (Local  Government  Board  Report,  1887-8,  c — 5526,  pp. 
319-367).  With  equal  rapidity  is  the  water  supply  becoming 
a matter  of  commercial  organization,  the  public  expenditure 
already  reaching  nearly  a million  sterling  annually.  Sixty-five 
local  authorities  borrowed  money  for  water  supply  in  1887-8, 

1 Government  Return  for  1887-8,  see  “ Board  of  Trade  Journal,” 
January,  1889,  pp.  70-8. 


46 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


rural  and  urban  districts  being  equally  represented  (c — 5550,  pp. 
319-367).  Tramways  and  ferries  are  undergoing  the  same  de- 
velopment. About  thirty-one  towns,  including  nearly  all  the 
larger  provincial  centres,  own  some  or  all  of  their  own  tramways. 
Manchester,  Bradford,  Birmingham,  Oldham,  Sunderland  and 
Greenock  lease  their  undertakings ; but  among  the  munici- 
palities Huddersfield  has  the  good  sense  to  work  its  lines  with- 
out any  “ middleman  ” intervention,  with  excellent  public  re- 
sults. The  tramway  mileage  belonging  to  local  authorities  has 
increased  five-fold  since  1878,  and  comprises  more  than  a 
quarter  of  the  whole  (House  of  Commons  Return,  1887-8,  No. 
347).  The  last  important  work  completed  by  the  Metropolitan 
Board  of  Works  was  the  establishment  of  a ‘Hree  steam 
ferry”  on  the  Thames,  charged  upon  the  rates*  This  is,  in 
some  respects,  the  most  significant  development  of  all.  The 
difference  between  a free  steam  ferry  and  a free  railway  is 
obviously  only  one  of  degree. 

A few  more  cases  are  worth  mentioning.  Glasgow  builds  and 
maintains  seven  public  “ common  lodging  houses  ” ; Liverpool 
provides  science  lectures ; Manchester  builds  and  stocks  an  art 
gallery ; Birmingham  runs  schools  of  design  ; Leeds  creates 
extensive  cattle  markets ; and  Bradford  supplies  water  below 
cost  price.  There  are  nearly  one  hundred  free  libraries  and 
reading  rooms.  The  minor  services  now  performed  by  public 
bodies  are  innumerable.^  This  “Municipal  Socialism”  has 
been  rendered  possible  by  the  creation  of  a local  debt  now 
reaching  over  £181,000,000.^  Nearly  £10,000,000  is  annually 
paid  as  interest  and  sinking  fund  on  the  debt ; and  to  this 
extent  the  pecuniary  benefit  of  municipalization  is  diminished. 
The  full  advantages  ^ of  the  public  organization  of  labor  re- 
main, besides  a considerable  pecuniary  profit ; whilst  the  ob- 

1 It  is  not  generally  known  that  the  Corporation  of  London  actually 
carried  on  the  business  of  fire  insurance  from  1081  to  1683,  but  was 
compelled  to  abandon  it  through  the  opposition  of  those  interested  in 
private  undertakings,  who  finally  obtained  a mandamus  in  the  Court  of 
King’s  Bench  to  restrain  the  civic  competitor  (Walford’s  Insurance 
Cyclopaedia,  vol.  iii,  pp.  446—445). 

C — 5550,  p.  436.  This,  by  the  way,  is  just  about  one  year’s  rental. 
We  pay  every  year  to  the  landlords  for  ])ermission  to  live  in  England  as 
much  as  the  whole  outstanding  cost  of  the  magnificent  property  of  the 
local  governing  authorities. 

^ See  ‘‘  The  Government  Organization  of  Labor,”  Report  by  a Com- 
mittee of  the  Fabian  Society,  1886. 


HISTOlllC. 


47 


Jective  differentiation  of  the  economic  classes  (by  the  separation 
of  the  idle  rentier  from  the  manager  or  entrepreneur)  enormously 
facilitates  popular  comprehension  of  the  nature  of  the  economic 
tribute  known  as  interest.  To  the  extent,  moreover,  that  addi- 
tional charges  are  thrown  upon  the  rates,  the  interest  paid 
to  the  capitalist  is  levied  mainly  at  the  cost  of  the  landlord,  and 
we  have  a corresponding  ‘‘  nationalization  ’’  of  so  much  of  the 
economic  rent.  The  increase  in  the  local  rates  has  been  36  per 
cent,  or  nearly  £7,000,000,  in  eleven  years,  and  is  still  growing. 
They  now  amount  to  over  twenty-six  millions  sterling  in  England 
and  Wales  alone,  or  about  17  per  cent  of  the  rental  of  the 
country  (C — 5550,  p.  clxxiv). 

Nor  is  there  any  apparent  prospect  of  a slackening  of  the 
pace  of  this  unconscious  abandonment  of  individualism.  No 
member  of  Parliament  has  so  much  as  introduced  a Bill  to 
give  effect  to  the  anarchist  principles  of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer’s 
‘‘  Man  versus  the  State.”  The  not  disinterested  efforts  of  the 
Liberty  and  Property  Defence  League  fail  to  hinder  even 
Conservative  Parliament  from  further  Socialistic  legislation. 
Mr.  Gladstone  remarked  to  a friend  in  1886  that  the  Home 
Pule  question  would  turn  the  Liberal  party  into  a Radical 
party.  He  might  have  said  that  it  would  make  both  parties 
Socialistic.  Free  elementary  and  public  technical  education  is 
now  practically  accepted  on  both  sides  of  the  House,  provided 
that  the  so-called  ‘^voluntary  schools,”  themselves  half  main- 
tained from  public  funds,  are  not  extinguished.  Mr.  Chamber- 
lain  and  the  younger  Conservatives  openly  advocate  far  reaching 
projects  of  social  reform  through  state  and  municipal  agency,  as 
a means  of  obtaining  popular  support.  The  National  Liberal 
Federation  adopts  the  special  taxation  of  urban  ground  values 
as  the  main  feature  in  its  domestic  programme,^  notwith- 
standing that  this  proposal  is  characterized  by  old  fashioned 
Liberals  as  sheer  confiscation  of  so  much  of  the  landlords’ 
property.  The  London  Liberal  and  Radical  Union,  which 
has  Mr.  John  Morley  for  its  president,  even  proposes  that  the 
County  Council  shall  have  power  to  rebuild  the  London  slums 
at  the  sole  charge  of  the  ground  landlord.^  It  is,  therefore, 

1 See  Report  of  the  Annual  Meeting  at  Birmingham,  September, 
1888. 

2 See  resolutions  adopted  by  the  Council,  at  tlie  instance  of  the 
Executive  and  General  Committee,  February  8th,  1889.  (Daily  News, 


48 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


not  surprising  that  the  Trades  Union  Congress  should  now 
twice  have  declared  in  favor  of  Land  Nationalization  ” by 
large  majorities,  or  that  the  bulk  of  the  London  County  Council 
should  be  returned  on  an  essentially  Socialistic  platform.  The 
whole  of  the  immediately  practicable  demands  of  the  most 
exacting  Socialists  are,  indeed,  now  often  embodied  in  the  current 
Radical  programme ; and  the  following  exposition  of  it,  from 
the  pages  of  the  Star  newspaper,  August  8,  1888,  may  serve 
as  a statement  of  the  current  Socialist  demands  for  further 
legislation.^ 

Revision  or  Taxation. 

Object,  — Complete  shifting  of  burden  from  the  workers,  of  whatever 
grade,  to  the  recipients  of  rent  and  interest,  with  a view  to  the  ultimate 
and  gradual  extinction  of  the  latter  class. 

Means.  — 1.  Abolition  of  all  customs  and  excise  duties,  except 
those  on  spirits.  2.  Increase  of  income  tax,  differentiating  in  favor 
of  earned  as  against  unearned  incomes,  and  graduating  cumulatively 
by  system  of  successive  levels  of  abatement.  3.  Equalization  and 
increase  of  death  duties  and  the  use  of  the  proceeds  as  capital,  not 
income.  4.  Shifting  of  local  rates  and  house  duty  from  occupier  to 
owner,  any  contract  to  the  contrary  notwitlistanding.  5.  Compulsory 
redemption  of  existing  land  tax  and  reimposition  on  all  ground  rents 
and  increased  values.  6.  Abolition  of  fees  on  licenses  for  employ- 
ment. 7.  Abolition  of  police-court  fees. 

Extension  op  Factory  Acts. 

Object.  — To  raise,  universally,  the  standard  of  comfort  by  obtaining 
the  general  recognition  of  a minimum  wage  and  a maximum  working 
day. 

Means.  — 1.  Extension  of  the  general  provisions  of  the  Factory  and 
Workshops  Acts  (or  the  Mines  Regulation  Acts,  as  the  case  may  be) 
to  all  employers  of  labor.  2.  Compulsory  registration  of  all  employ- 
ers of  more  than  three  (? ) workers.  3.  Largely  increased  number  of 
inspectors,  and  these  to  include  women,  and  to  be  mainly  chosen  from 
tlie  wage-earning  class.  4.  Immediate  reduction  of  maximum  hours  to 
eight  per  day  in  all  Government  and  municipal  employment,  in  all 
mines,  and  in  all  licensed  monopolies  such  as  railways,  tramways,  gas- 
works, waterworks,  docks,  harbors,  etc. ; and  in  any  trade  in  which  a 
majority  of  the  workers  desire  it.  5.  The  compulsory  insertion  of 


0th  February.)  Professor  Stuart,  M.P.,  has  now  introduced  a Bill  em- 
bodying these  astonishing  proposals. 

1 It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  programme,  with  its  primary  in- 
sistence on  economic  and  social  reform,  with  the  bare  political  charac- 
ter of  the  “Five  Points of  the  Chartists,  viz..  Manhood  Suffrage,  Vote 
by  Ballot,  Annual  Parliaments,  Payment  of  Members  relieved  from  the 
property  qualification,  and  Equal  Electoral  Districts. 


HISTORIC. 


49 


clauses  in  all  contracts  for  Government  or  municipal  supplies,  provid- 
ing (a)  that  there  shall  be  no  sub-contracting,  (6)  that  no  worker  shall 
be  employed  more  than  eight  hours  per  day,  and  (c)  that  no  wages  less 
than  a prescribed  minimum  shall  be  paid. 

Educational  Reform. 

Object.  — To  enable  all,  even  the  poorest,  children  to  obtain  not 
merely  some,  but  the  best  education  they  are  capable  of. 

Means.  — 1.  The  immediate  abolition  of  all  fees  in  public  elementary 
schools.  Board  or  voluntary,  with  a corresponding  increase  in  the  Gov- 
ernment grant.  2.  Creation  of  a Minister  for  Education,  with  control 
over  the  whole  educational  system,  from  the  elementary  school  to  the 
University,  and  over  all  educational  endowments.  3.  Provision  of 
public  technical  and  secondary  schools  wherever  needed,  and  creation 
of  abundant  public  secondary  scholarships.  4.  Continuation,  in  all 
cases,  of  elementary  education  at  evening  schools.  6.  Registration 
and  inspection  of  all  private  educational  establishments. 

Re-organization  of  Poor  Law  Administration. 

Object.  — To  provide  generously,  and  without  stigma,  for  the  aged, 
the  sick,  and  those  destitute  through  temporary  want  of  employment, 
without  relaxing  the  “tests”  against  the  endowment  of  able-bodied 
idleness. 

Means. — 1.  The  separation  of  the  relief  of  the  aged  and  the  sick  from 
the  workhouse  system,  by  a universal  system  of  aged  pensions,  and 
public  infirmaries.  2.  The  industrial  organization  and  technical  educa- 
tion of  all  able-bodied  paupers.  3.  The  provision  of  temporary  relief 
works  for  the  unemployed.  4.  The  supersession  of  the  Boards  of 
Guardians  by  the  local  municipal  authorities. 

Extension  of  Municipal  Activity. 

Object.  — The  gradual  public  organization  of  labor  for  all  public 
purposes,  and  the  elimination  of  the  private  capitalist  and  middleman. 

Means.  — 1.  The  provision  of  increased  facilities  for  the  acquisition 
of  land,  the  destruction  without  compensation  of  all  dwellings  found 
unfit  for  habitation,  and  the  provision  of  artisan  dwellings  by  the 
municipality.  2.  The  facilitation  of  every  extension  of  municipal  ad- 
ministration, in  London  and  all  other  towns,  of  gas,  water,  markets, 
tramways,  hospitals,  cemeteries,  parks,  museums,  art  galleries,  libraries, 
reading-rooms,  schools,  docks,  harbors,  rivers,  etc.  3.  The  provision 
of  abundant  facilities  for  the  acquisition  of  land  by  local  rural  author- 
ities, for  allotments,  common  pastures,  public  halls,  reading-rooms,  etc. 

Amendment  of  Political  Machinery. 

Object.  — To  obtain  the  most  accurate  representation  and  expression 
of  the  desires  of  the  majority  of  the  people  at  every  moment. 

Means. — 1.  Reform  of  registration  so  as  to  give  a vote,  both  Par- 
liamentary and  municipal,  to  every  adult.  2.  Abolition  of  any  period 
of  residence  as  a qualification  for  regidtration.  3.  Bi-annual  registra- 


50 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


tion  by  special  public  officer.  4.  Annual  Parliaments.  5.  Payment  of 
election  expenses,  including  postage  of  election  addresses  and  polling 
cards.  6.  Payment  of  all  public  representatives,  parliamentary,  county, 
or  municipal.  7.  Second  ballot.  8.  Abolition  or  painless  extinction 
of  the  House  of  Lords. ^ 

This  is  the  programme  to  which  a century  of  industrial 
revolution  has  brought  the  Radical  working  man.  Like  John 
Stuart  Mill,^  though  less  explicitly,  he  has  turned  from  mere 
political  Democracy  to  a complete,  though  unconscious.  So- 
cialism.^ 

The  New  Synthesis. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  social  philosophy  of  the  time 
did  not  remain  unaffected  by  the  political  evolution  and  the 
industrial  development.  Slowly  sinking  into  men’s  minds  all 
this  while  was  the  conception  of  a new  social  nexus,  and  a 
new  end  of  social  life.  It  was  discovered  (or  rediscovered) 
that  a society  is  something  more  than  an  aggregate  of  so  many 
individual  units  — that  it  possesses  existence  distinguishable 
from  those  of  any  of  its  components.  A perfect  city  became 
recognized  as  something  more  than  any  number  of  good  citi- 
zens — something  to  be  tried  by  other  tests,  and  weighed  in 
other  balances  than  the  individual  man.  The  community  must 
necessarily  aim,  consciously  or  not,  at  its  continuance  as  a 
community ; its  life  transcends  that  of  any  of  its  members ; 
and  the  interests  of  the  individual  unit  must  often  clash  with 
those  of  the  whole.  Though  the  social  organism  has  itself 
evolved  from  the  union  of  individual  men,  the  individual  is 
now  created  by  the  social  organism  of  which  he  forms  a part : 
his  life  is  born  of  the  larger  life ; his  attributes  are  moulded  by 
the  social  pressure  ; his  activities,  inextricably  interwoven  with 
others,  belong  to  the  activity  of  the  whole.  Without  the  con- 

1 It  need  hardly  be  said  that  schemes  of  “ free  land,^^  peasant  propri- 
etorship, or  leasehold  enfranchisement,  find  no  place  in  the  modern 
programme  of  the  Socialist  Hadical,  or  Social  Democrat.  They  are 
survivals  of  the  Individualistic  Radicalism  which  is  passing  away. 
Candidates  seeking  a popular  “ cry  more  and  more  avoid  these  reac- 
tionary proposals. 

2 “ Autobiography,”  p.  231-2.  See  also  Book  IV.  of  the  “ Principles 
of  Political  Economy”  (Popular  edition,  1865). 

3 For  a forecast  of  the  difficulties  which  this  programme  will  have  to 
encounter  as  its  full  scope  and  intention  become  more  clearly  realized, 
see  the  eighth  essay  in  this  volume,  by  Hubert  Bland. 


HISTORIC. 


61 


tinuance  and  sound  health  of  the  social  organism,  no  man  can 
now  live  or  thrive ; and  its  persistence  is  accordingly  his  para- 
mount end.  His  conscious  motive  for  action  may  be,  nay, 
always  must  be,  individual  to  himself ; but  where  such  action 
proves  inimical  to  the  social  welfare,  it  must  sooner  or  later  be 
checked  by  the  whole,  lest  the  whole  perish  through  the  error 
of  its  member.  The  conditions  of  social  health  are  accord- 
ingly a matter  for  scientific  investigation.  There  is,  at  any 
moment,  one  particular  arrangement  of  social  relations  which 
involves  the  minimum  of  human  misery  then  and  there  pos- 
sible amid  the  ‘^niggardliness  of  nature.”  Fifty  years  ago  it 
would  have  been  assumed  that  absolute  freedom  in  the  sense 
of  individual  or  “ manly  ” independence,  plus  a criminal  code, 
would  spontaneously  result  in  such  an  arrangement  for  each 
l^articular  nation;  and  the  effect  was  the  philosophic  apoth- 
eosis of  Laisser  Faire,  To-day  every  student  is  aware  that 
no  such  optimistic  assumption  is  warranted  by  the  facts  of  life.^ 
We  know  now  that  in  natural  selection  at  the  stage  of  develop- 
ment where  the  existence  of  civilized  mankind  is  at  stake,  the 
units  selected  from  are  not  individuals,  but  societies.  Its 
action  at  earlier  stages,  though  analogous,  is  quite  dissimilar. 
Among  the  lower  animals  physical  strength  or  agility  is  the 
favored  quality ; if  some  heaven-sent  genius  among  the  cuttle- 
fish developed  a delicate  poetic  faculty,  this  high  excellence 
would  not  delay  his  succumbing  to  his  hulking  neighbor. 
When,  higher  up  in  the  scale,  mental  cunning  became  the  fa- 
vored attribute,  an  extra  brain  convolution,  leading  primitive 
man  to  the  invention  of  fire  or  tools,  enabled  a comparatively 
puny  savage  to  become  the  conqueror  and  survivor  of  his 
fellows. 

Brain  culture  accordingly  developed  apace;  but  we  do  not 
yet  thoroughly  realize  that  this  has  itself  been  superseded  as 
the  “selected”  attribute,  by  social  organization.  The  culti- 
vated Athenians,  Saracens,  and  Proven9als  went  down  in  the 
struggle  for  existence  before  their  respective  competitors,  who, 
individually  inferior,  were  in  possession  of  a,  at  that  time, 
more  valuable  social  organization.  The  French  nation  was 
beaten  in  the  last  war,  not  because  the  average  German  was 
an  inch  and  a half  taller  than  the  average  Frenchman,  or 

^ See  “Darwinism  and  Politics/^ by  D.  G.  Ritchie,  Fellow  and  Tutor 
of  Jesus  College,  Oxford  (London  : Swan,  Sonneshein  & Co.,  1889). 


U.  C.*  ILL  U8. 


52 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


because  he  had  read  five  more  books,  but  because  the  German 
social  organism,  was,  for  the  purposes  of  the  time,  superior  in 
efficiency  to  the  French.  If  we  desire  to  hand  on  to  the  after- 
world  our  direct  influence,  and  not  merely  the  memory  of  our 
excellence,  we  must  take  even  more  care  to  improve  the  social 
organism  of  which  we  form  part,  than  to  perfect  our  own  indi- 
vidual developments.  Or  rather,  the  perfect  and  fitting  devel- 
opment of  each  individual  is  not  neccessarily  the  utmost  and 
highest  cultivation  of  his  own  personality,  but  the  filling,  in 
the  best  possible  way,  of  his  humble  function  in  the  great 
social  machine.  We  must  abandon  the  self-conceit  of  imag- 
ining that  we  are  independent  units,  and  bend  our  jealous 
minds,  absorbed  in  their  own  cultivation,  to  this  subjection  to 
the  higher  end,  the  Common  Weal.  Accordingly,  conscious 

direct  adaptation  ’’  steadily  supplants  the  unconscious  and 
wasteful  “ indirect  adaptation  ” of  the  earlier  form  of  the 
struggle  for  existence ; and  with  every  advance  in  sociological 
knowledge,  Man  is  seen  to  assume  more  and  more,  not  only 
the  mastery  of  things,’’  but  also  a conscious  control  over 
social  destiny  itself. 

This  new  scientific  conception  of  the  Social  Organism,  has 
put  completely  out  of  countenance  the  cherished  principles  of 
the  Political  Economist  and  the  Philosophic  Radical.  We  left 
them  sailing  gaily  into  Anarchy  on  the  stream  of  Laisser  Faire, 
Since  then  the  tide  has  turned.  The  publication  of  John  Stuart 
Mill’s  ‘^Political  Economy”  in  1848  marks  conveniently  the 
boundary  of  the  old  individualist  Economics.  Every  edition 
of  Mill’s  book  became  more  and  more  Socialistic.  After  his 
death  the  world  learnt  the  personal  liistory,  penned  by  his  own 
hand,^  of  his  development  from  a mere  political  democrat  to  a 
convinced  Socialist. 

The  change  in  tone  since  then  has  been  such  that  one  com- 
petent economist,  professedly  ^ anti-Socialist,  publishes  regret- 
fully to  the  world  that  all  the  younger  men  are  now  Socialists, 
as  well  as  many  of  the  older  Professors.  It  is,  indeed,  mainly 
from  tliese  that  the  world  has  learnt  how  faulty  were  the 
earlier  economic  generalizations,  and  above  all,  how  incomplete 

1 Autobiography/’  pp.  231-2. 

2 Kev.  F.  W.  Aveling,  Principal  of  Taunton  Ind(^peiulent  College,  in 
leaflet  “ Down  witli  tlie  Socialists/’  August,  1888.  See  also  Professor 
H.  Sedgwick  on  “Economic  Socialism/’  Contemporary  lievitw, 
November,  1886. 


HISTORIC. 


53 


as  guides  for  social  or  political  action.  These  generalizations 
are  accordingly  now  to  be  met  with  only  in  leading  articles, 
sermons,  or  the  speeches  of  Ministers  or  Bishops.^  The 
Economist  himself  knows  them  no  more. 

The  result  of  this  development  of  Sociology  is  to  compel 
a revision  of  the  relative  importance  of  liberty  and  equality 
as  principles  to  be  kept  in  view  in  social  administration.  In 
Bentham’s  celebrated  ends  ’’  to  be  aimed  at  in  a civil  code, 
liberty  stands  predominant  over  equality,  on  the  ground  that 
full  equality  can  be  maintained  only  by  the  loss  of  security  for 
the  fruits  of  labor.  That  exposition  remains  as  true  as  ever  ; 
but  the  question  for  decision  remains,  how  much  liberty?  Eco- 
nomic analysis  has  destroyed  the  value  of  the  old  criterion  of 
respect  for  the  equal  liberty  of  others.  Bentham,  whose  eco- 
nomics were  weak,  paid  no  attention  to  the  perpetual  tribute 
on  the  fruits  of  others’  labor  which  full  private  property  in 
land  inevitably  creates.  In  his  view,  liberty  and  security  to 
property  meant  that  every  worker  should  be  free  to  obtain  the 
full  result  of  his  own  labor ; and  there  appeared  no  incon- 
sistency between  them.  The  political  economist  now  knows 
that  with  free  competition  and  private  property  in  land  and 
capital,  no  individual  can  possibly  obtain  the  full  result  of  his 
own  labor.  The  student  of  industrial  development,  moreover, 
finds  it  steadily  more  and  more  impossible  to  traee  what  is 
precisely  the  result  of  each  separate  man’s  toil.  Complete 
rights  of  liberty  and  property  necessarily  involve,  for  example, 
the  spoliation  of  the  Irish  cottier  tenant  for  the  benefit  of  Lord 
Clanricarde.  What  then  becomes  of  the  Benthamic  principle 
of  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number?  When  the 
Benthamite  comes  to  understand  the  Law  of  Rent,  which  of  the 
two  will  he  abandon?  For  he  cannot  escape  the  lesson  of 
the  century,  taught  alike  by  the  economists,  the  statesmen,  and 
the  practical  men,”  that  complete  individual  liberty,  with 
unrestrained  private  ownership  of  the  instruments  of  wealth 
production,  is  irreconcilable  with  the  common  weal.  The 
free  struggle  for  existence  among  ourselves  menaces  our  sur- 
vival as  a healthy  and  permanent  social  organism.  Evolution, 
Professor  Huxley  ^ declares,  is  the  substitution  of  consciously 

1 That  is  to  say,  unfortunately,  in  nearly  all  the  utterances  which 
profess  to  guide  our  social  and  political  action. 

2 Contemporary  Review ^ February,  1888. 


54 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


regulated  co-ordination  among  the  units  of  each  organism,  for 
blind  anarchic  competition.  Thirty  years  ago  Herbert  Spencer 
demonstrated  the  incompatibility  of  full  private  property  in 
land  with  the  modern  democratic  State  ; ^ and  almost  every 
economist  now  preaches  the  same  doctrine.  The  Radical  is 
rapidly  arriving,  from  practical  experience,  at  similar  conclu- 
sions ; and  the  steady  increase  of  the  government  regulation 
of  private  enterprise,  the  growth  of  municipal  administration, 
and  the  rapid  shifting  of  the  burden  of  taxation  directly  to 
rent  and  interest,  mark  in  treble  lines  the  statesman’s  uncon- 
scious abandonment  of  the  old  Individualism,  and  our  irresis- 
tible glide  into  collectivist  Socialism. 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  Democracy  should  learn  this 
lesson.  With  the  masses  painfully  conscious  of  the  failure  of 
Individualism  to  create  a decent  social  life  for  four-fifths  of  the 
people,^  it  might  have  been  foreseen  that  Individualism  could 
not  survive  their  advent  to  political  power.  If  private  property 
in  land  and  capital  necessarily  keeps  the  many  workers  perma- 
nently poor  (through  no  fault  of  their  own),  in  order  to  make 
the  few  idlers  rich  (from  no  merit  of  their  own),  private 
property  in  land  and  capital  will  inevitably  go  the  way  of  the 
feudalism  which  it  superseded.  The  economic  analysis  con- 
firms the  rough  generalization  of  the  suffering  people.  The 
history  of  industrial  evolution  points  to  the  same  result;  and 
for  two  generations  the  world’s  chief  ethical  teachers  have  been 
urging  the  same  lesson.  No  wonder  the  heavens  of  Individu- 
alism are  rolling  up  before  our  eyes  like  a scroll ; and  even  the 
Bishops  believe  and  tremble.® 

It  is,  of  course,  possible,  as  Sir  Henry  Maine  and  others 
have  suggested,  that  the  whole  experience  of  the  century  is  a 
mistake,  and  that  political  power  will  once  more  swing  back 
into  the  hands  of  a monarcli  or  an  aristocratic  oligarchy.  It 
is,  indeed,  want  of  faith  in  Democracy  which  holds  back  most 
educated  sympatliisers  with  Socialism  from  frankly  accepting 
its  principles.  What  the  economic  side  of  such  political 

1 “ Social  Statistics/'  passim. 

2 See  Professor  Leone  Levi’s  letter  to  the  Times,  13th  August,  1886, 
and  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison’s  speech  at  the  Industrial  Remuneration 
Conference  held  in  danuary,  1885  (Report,  p.  429). 

3 See  Report  of  the  Lambeth  Episcopal  Conference,  1888 ; subject, 
“Soeialism”:  also  the  proceedings  of  the  Central  Conference  of  l)io- 
cesan  Councils,  June,  1889  (paper  on  Socialism  by  Canon  Furse). 


HISTORIC. 


55 


atavism  would  be  it  is  not  easy  to  forecast.  The  niacliine 
industry  and  steam  power  could  hardly  be  dismissed  with  the 
caucus  and  the  ballot-box.  So  long,  however,  as  Democracy 
in  political  administration  continues  to  be  the  dominant  prin- 
ciple, Socialism  may  be  quite  safely  predicted  as  its  economic 
obverse,  in  spite  of  those  freaks  or  aberrations  of  Democracy 
which  have  already  here  and  there  thrown  up  a short-lived 
monarchy  or  a romantic  dictatorship.  Every  increase  in  the 
political  power  of  the  proletariat  will  most  surely  be  used  by 
them  for  their  economic  and  social  protection.  In  England,  at 
any  rate,  the  history  of  the  century  serves  at  once  as  their 
guide  and  their  justification. 


INDUSTRIAL. 


BY  WILLIAM  CLARKE,  M.A. 

My  object  in  the  following  paper  is  to  present  a brief  narra- 
tive of  the  economic  history  of  the  last  century  or  century  and 
a half.  From  this  I wish  to  draw  a moral.  That  moral  is 
that  there  has  been  and  is  proceeding  an  economic  evolution, 
practically  independent  of  our  individual  desires  or  prejudices ; 
an  evolution  which  has  changed  for  us  the  whole  social  problem 
by  changing  the  conditions  of  material  production,  and  which 
ipso  facto  effects  a revolution  in  our  modern  life.  To  learn 
clearly  what  that  revolution  is,  and  to  prepare  ourselves  for 
taking  advantage  of  it  in  due  course  — this  I take  to  be  briefly 
what  is  meant  by  Socialism.  The  ignorant  public,  represented 
by,  let  us  say,  the  average  bishop  or  member  of  Parliament, 
hears  of  the  “ Social  Revolution  ” and  instantly  thinks  of  street 
riots,  noyades,  with  a coup  d'etat:  a 10th  of  August,  followed 
perhaps  by  its  Nemesis  in  an  18th  Brumaire.  But  these  are 
not  the  Social  Revolution.  That  great  change  is  proceeding 
silently  every  day.  Each  new  line  of  railway  which  opens  up 
the  trackless  desert,  every  new  machine  which  supplants  hand 
labor,  each  fresh  combination  formed  by  capitalists,  every  new 
labor  organization,  every  change  in  prices,  each  new  invention 
— all  these  forces  and  many  more  are  actually  working  out  a 
social  revolution  before  our  eyes : for  they  are  changing  funda- 
mentally the  economic  basis  of  life.  There  may  possibly 
come  some  one  supreme  moment  of  time  in  which  a great 
dramatic  incident  will  reveal  to  men  the  significance  of  the 
changes  which  have  led  up  to  it,  and  of  which  it  is  merely  the 
final  expression.  And  future  historians  may  write  of  that 
as  The  Revolution  just  as  historians  now  write  of  the  fall  of  the 
Bastille,  or  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI,  as  though  these  events 
constituted  the  French  Revolution,  instead  of  being  the  final 


INDUSTRIAL. 


57 


terms  in  a long  series  of  events  which  had  been  loosening  the 
fabric  of  French  feudalism  through  several  generations.  The 
true  prophet  is  not  an  ignorant  soothsayer  who  foretells  some 
Armageddon,  but  rather  he  who  perceives  tlie  inevitable  drift 
and  tendency  of  things.  Somewhat  in  tliis  spirit  we  may  con- 
sider the  economic  liistory  of  the  modern  industrial  era  in  order 
to  discern  its  meaning,  to  see  what  it  has  led  up  to,  and  wdiat, 
consequently,  are  the  problems  with  which  we  find  ourselves 
confronted  to-day. 

Had  we  visited  a village  or  small  town  in  England  where 
industrial  operations  were  going  on  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago,  w hat  should  we  have  found  ? No  tall  chimney,  vomiting 
its  clouds  of  smoke,  would  have  been  visible ; no  huge  building 
w ith  its  hundred  windows  blazing  with  light  would  have  loomed 
up/ before  the  traveller  as  he  entered  the  town  at  dusk  ; no  din 
of  machinery  would  have  been  heard ; no  noise  of  steam 
hammers ; no  huge  blast  furnaces  would  have  met  his  eye, 
nor  would  miles  of  odors  wafted  from  chemical  works  have 
saluted  his  nostrils.  If  Lancashire  had  been  the  scene  of 
his  visit  he  would  have  found  a number  of  narrow  red  brick 
houses  with  high  steps  in  front,  and  outside  wooden  shutters 
such  as  one  may  still  see  in  the  old  parts  of  some  Lancashire 
towns  to-day.  Inside  each  of  these  houses  was  a little  family 
workshop,  containing  neither  master  nor  servant,  in  which 
the  family  jointly  contributed  to  produce  by  the  labor  of  their 
hands  a piece  of  cotton  cloth.  The  father  provided  his  own 
warp  of  linen  yarn,  and  his  cotton  wool  for  weft.  He  had 
purchased  the  yarn  in  a prepared  state,  while  the  wool  for 
the  weft  was  carded  and  spun  by  his  wife  and  daughters,  and 
the  cloth  was  woven  by  himself  and  his  sons.  There  was. a 
simple  division  of  labor  in  the  tiny  cottage  factory ; but  all  the 
implements  necessary  to  produce  the  cotton  cloth  were  owned 
by  the  producers.  There  was  neither  capitalist  nor  wage- 
receiver  : the  weaver  controlled  his  own  labor,  effected  his  own 
exchange,  and  received  himself  the  equivalent  of  his  own 
product.  Such  was  the  germ  of  the  great  English  cotton 
manufacture.  Ferdinand  Lasselle  said:  “ Society  consists  of 
ninety-six  proletaires  and  four  capitalists.  That  is  your  State.’’ 
But  in  old  Lancashire  there  was  neither  capitalist  nor  prole- 
taire. 

Or  even  much  later  had  one  visited  — Stafford,  let  us  say, 


58 


THE  BASIS  OE  SOCIALISM. 


one  would  not  have  found  the  large  modern  shoe-factory,  with 
its  bewildering  variety  of  machines,  each  one  with  a human 
machine  by  its  side.  For  shoemaking  then  was  a pure  handi- 
craft, requiring  skill,  judgment  and  some  measure  of  artistic 
sense.  Each  shoemaker  worked  in  his  own  little  house,  bought 
his  own  material  from  the  leather  merchant,  and  fashioned 
every  part  of  the  shoe  with  his  own  hand,  aided  by  a few 
simple  and  inexpensive  tools.  He  believed  there  was  nothing 
like  leather,  and  had  not  yet  learned  the  art  of  putting  on 
cheap  soles,  not  made  of  leather,  to  cheap  boots,  which,  in  a 
month’s  time,  will  be  almost  worn  out.  Very  likely  the  shoe- 
maker had  no  vote ; but  he  was  never  liable  to  be  locked  out 
by  his  employer,  or  to  be  obliged  to  go  on  strike  against  a 
reduction  of  wages,  with  his  boy  in  prison  for  satisfying  hunger 
at  the  expense  of  the  neighboring  baker,  or  his  girl  on  the 
streets  to  pay  for  her  new  dress.  Such  was  the  simple  indus- 
trialism of  our  great-great-grandfathers.  But  their  mode  of 
life  was  destined  to  change.  All  progress,  says  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer,  is  differentiation ; and  this  formidable  factor  began 
to  appear  in  the  quiet,  sleepy,  English  country.  About  1760 
a large  share  of  calico-printing  was  transferred  from  London 
to  Lancashire,  where  labor  was  then  cheaper.  There  was  a 
consequent  fall  in  prices,  and  an  increased  demand  for  calicoes 
of  linen  warp  and  cotton  weft.  Then  the  Manchester  dealers, 
instead  of  buying  fustians  and  calicoes  from  the  weaver,  began 
to  furnish  him  with  the  materials  for  his  cloth,  and  to  pay 
liim  a fixed  price  per  piece  for  the  work  when  executed.  So 
the  Manchester  dealer  became  what  the  French  call  an  entre- 
pr^neur ; and  the  transformation  of  the  independent  weaver 
into  a wage  receiver  began.  The  iron  law  of  wages  and  the 
unemployed  question  also  began  to  loom  dimly  up.  For  as 
the  weaver  came  to  hire  himself  to  the  dealer,  so  the  weaver 
let  out  part  of  his  work ; and  it  frequently  happened  that  the 
sum  which  the  master  weaver  received  from  his  employer  was 
less  than  what  he  found  himself  compelled  to  pay  to  those 
wliom  he  employed  in  spinning.  He  durst  not,  however, 
complain,”  says  Mr.  Watts  in  his  article  on  cotton  (Ency- 
clopoedia  Britannica),  ‘‘much  less  abate  the  spinner’s  price, 
lest  his  looms  should  be  unemployed.”  The  quantity  of  yarn 
producible  under  this  simple  system  by  the  aid  of  the  one- 
thread  wheel  was  very  small.  The  whole  did  not  exceed  in 


INDUSTRIAL. 


e^9 


quantity  what  50,000  spindles  of  our  present  machinery  can 
yield.  As  one  man  can  now  superintend  2,000  spindles,  it 
will  be  seen  that  twenty-five  men  with  machinery  can  produce 
as  much  as  the  whole  population  of  old  Lancashire.  In  1750 
the  first  important  invention  in  the  cotton  industry  was  made 
in  the  shape  of  the  fly-shuttle,  invented  by  Kaye  of  Bury.  In 
17G0  improvements  were  made  in  the  carding  process.  In 
1767  the  spinning-jenny  was  invented  by  Hargreaves,  and  tliis 
was  at  length  brought  to  work  as  many  as  eighty  spindles. 
The  ingenious  Hargreaves  had  ample  opportunity  for  practical 
study  of  the  unemployed  ” question ; for  the  spinners,  some 
of  whom  were  forced  into  idleness  by  the  new  invention,  broke 
into  his  house  and  destroyed  his  machine.  Shortly  after,  there 
was  a general  rising  over  industrial  Lancashire:  the  poor 
hand-workers,  whose  prophetic  souls  were  evidently  dreaming 
on  things  to  come,  scouring  the  country  and  breaking  in  pieces 
every  carding  and  spinning  machine  they  could  find. 

Progress  by  differentiation,  however,  heeded  not  the  second 
sight  of  Lancashire  workers.  In  1769,  Arkwright  contrived 
the  spinning  frame,  and  obtained  his  patent  for  spinning  with 
rollers.  In  1775,  Crompton,  of  Bolton,  invented  the  mule-jenny, 
enabling  warps  of  the  finest  quality  to  be  spun.  In  1 792,  further 
improvements  in  this  machine  were  made  by  Pollard,  of  Man- 
chester, and  Kelly,  of  Glasgow.  In  1785,  steam  was  first  ap- 
plied to  the  spinning  of  cotton  in  Nottinghamshire.  In  1784 
the  Rev.  E.  Cartwright,  of  Kent,  invented  power-loom  weaving, 
and  completed  and  patented  his  invention  in  August,  1787. 
Here,  then,  within  a period  of  about  forty  years,  was  a series 
of  mechanical  inventions  which  had  the  effect  of  absolutely 
changing  the  method  of  production,  and  enormously  increasing 
the  output;  of  dividing  the  labor  of  producing,  which  had 
formerly  been  effected  by  a single  family  within  the  walls 
of  a single  room,  between  scores  and  hundreds  of  people, 
each  of  whom  only  undertook  a single  process  in  a complex 
operation ; of  massing  together  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people 
under  new  conditions  ; of  bringing  a heretofore  isolated  district 
into  intimate  relations  with  distant  foreign  lands : and  of  sepa- 
rating the  work  of  spinning  or  weaving  from  the  ownership 
of  the  instruments  by  whose  aid  the  work  was  done.  The  in- 
dependent weaver  was  gone ; or  rather  he  was  subjected,  like 
an  amoeba,  to  a process  of  fission,  but  with  this  difference : that 


60 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


whereas  the  amoeba  produces  by  fission  other  similar  amoebae, 
the  weaver  was  differentiated  into  a person  called  an  employer 
and  another  called  an  employe  or  hand.”  Multiply  this 
“ hand  ” by  thousands,  and  we  get  the  mill  or  factory,  divided 
into  departments,  each  with  its  special  detail  of  work,  each  de- 
tail fitting  into  all  the  rest,  each  machine  taking  up  the  work 
where  the  last  machine  left  it,  and  each  contributing  its  share 
to  the  joint  product.  Multiply  the  employer  ; add  enormously 
to  the  aggregate  of  his  capital ; remove  the  barrier  of  national 
frontiers  from  his  operations ; relieve  him  of  the  duty  of  per- 
sonal supervision ; and  we  get  the  joint-stock  capitalist. 

Pause  a moment  to  consider  the  famous  world-events  which 
made  so  much  noise  while  these  industrial  processes  were  going 
on.  The  conquest  of  Canada,  the  victories  of  Clive  in  India, 
the  Seven  Years’  War,  the  successful  revolt  of  the  American 
colonies,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  formation  of  the 
American  Constitution,  the  deeds  of  Frederic  the  Great,  Pitt’s 
accession  to  power,  Washington’s  election  to  the  Presidency, 
the  Fall  of  the  Bastille,  the  death  of  Mirabeau,  the  fall  of  the 
old  French  monarchy,  the  National  Convention  — all  these  great 
events  which  shook  the  world  were  contemporary  with  the  in- 
dustrial revolution  in  England ; and  that  revolution  was  in 
promise  and  potency  more  important  than  them  all. 

I will  glance  at  the  development  of  another  great  industry, 
that  of  iron.  In  former  times  iron  was  largely  worked  in  the 
south  of  England,  notably  in  Sussex,  in  a district  now  purely 
agricultural.  By  the  middle  of  the  I8th  century,  important  iron 
industries  had  begun  to  cluster  round  Coalbrookdale  ; and  here 
many  of  the  industrial  changes  in  the  working  of  iron  were  first 
introduced.  From  1766  to  1784  improvements  were  made  in  the 
mode  of  working  malleable  iron  and  of  transferring  cast  into 
wrought  iron.  The  puddling  forge  was  invented  in  1784;  and 
it  gave  an  immense  impetus  to  the  manufacture.  In  1828  the 
use  of  the  hot  blast  was  substituted  for  cold  air  ; in  1842  Nas- 
myth invented  the  steam-hammer  ; and  in  1856  the  Bessemer 
process  of  making  steel  was  patented.  Subsequently  we  have 
the  Siemens  regenerative  furnace  and  gas  producer,  the  use  of 
machinery  in  lieu  of  hand  labor  for  puddling,  the  casting  of  steel 
under  great  pressure,  and  the  improvements  in  the  Bessemer 
process.  As  a result  of  these  inventions  the  increase  in  the 
2)roduction  of  steel  during  the  last  few  years,  especially  in  the 


INDUSTRIAL. 


61 


United  States  and  Great  Britain,  has  been  enormous.  In  all  this 
we  see  the  same  series  of  phenomena,  all  tending  to  huge  mo- 
nopolies. Machinery  supplants  hand  labor ; production  is 
greatly  stimulated  ; the  immense  capital  needed  enables  only  the 
large  producers  to  survive  in  the  competitive  conflict ; and  we 
get  as  the  net  result  well  defined  aggregations  of  capital  on  the 
one  hand,  and  dependent  machine  minders  on  the  other. 

I have  alluded  to  the  shoe  industry  as  having  been  formerly  a 
pure  handicraft.  Simple  machine  processes  for  fastening  soles 
and  heels  to  inner  soles  began  to  be  adopted  in  1809  ; and  from 
that  time  onward  successive  inventions  have  converted  the  pure 
handicraft  into  one  of  the  most  mechanical  industries  in  the 
world.  In  the  United  States  in  1881  no  less  than  50,000,000 
pairs  of  boots  and  shoes  were  sewn  by  the  Blake-Mackay  ma- 
chines. A visitor  to  a shoe  factory  to-day  will  see  the  following 
machines : for  cutting  leather,  for  pressing  rollers  for  sole  leather, 
for  stamping  out  sole  and  heel  pieces,  for  blocking  and  crimping, 
for  moulding  uppers  or  vamps,  for  vamp-folding,  for  eyeletting, 
lasting,  trimming  and  paring,  scouring,  sand-papering  and  bur- 
nishing, for  stamping,  peg-cutting,  and  nail-rasping.  It  is  well 
to  witness  all  these  processes  going  on  in  one  large  factory  in 
order  to  grasp  fully  the  idea  that  the  old  individual  industry  of 
the  last  century  is  almost  as  extinct  as  the  mastodon  — that  the 
worker  in  a shoe  factory  to-day  is,  so  to  speak,  a machine  in  a 
vast  complex  system.  The  great  industry  has  supplanted  the 
small  one;  such  great  industry  involves  the  aggregation  of  capi- 
tal : consequently  competition  on  the  part  of  the  small  producer 
is  hopeless  and  impossible.  Thus  in  the  proletarian  class  the 
intensity  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  increased,  keeping  down 
wages  and  ever  widening  the  margin  of  the  unemployed  class. 
The  small  producer  must  become  a wage  earner  either  as 
manager,  foreman,  or  workman.  As  well  attempt  to  meet  Gat- 
ling guns  with  bow  and  arrows,  or  steel  cruisers  armed  with 
dynamite  bombs  with  the  little  cockle-shells  in  which  Henry  Y’s 
army  crossed  over  to  win  the  field  of  Agincourt,  as  to  set  up  single 
shoe-makers  or  cotton-weavers  against  the  vast  industrial  armies 
of  the  world  of  machinery.  The  revolution  is  confined  to  no  one 
industry,  to  no  one  land.  While  most  fully  developed  in  Eng- 
land, it  is  extending  to  most  industries  and  to  all  lands.  Prince 
Kropotkin,  it  is  true,  reminds  us  in  an  interesting  article  in  the 
Nineteenth  Century  for  October,  1888,  that  a number  of  small 


62 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


industries  can  still  be  found  in  town  and  country.  That  is  so, 
no  doubt ; and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  for  a long  time  to  come 
many  small  trades  may  exist,  and  some  may  even  flourish.  But 
the  countries  in  which  small  industries  flourish  most  are  precisely 
those  in  which  there  is  least  machine  industry,  and  where  con- 
sequently capitalism  is  least  developed.  In  no  country,  says 
Kropotkin,  are  there  so  many  small  producers  as  in  Russia. 
Exactly : and  in  no  country  is  there  so  little  machinery  or  such 
an  inefficient  railway  system  in  proportion  to  population  and  re- 
sources. On  the  other  hand,  in  no  country  is  machinery  so 
extensively  used  as  in  the  United  States  ; and  it  is  precisely  that 
country  which  contains  the  fewest  small  industries  in  proportion 
to  population  and  resources.  IVIany  of  the  small  industries,  too, 
as  Kropotkin  admits,  are  carried  on  by  persons  who  have  been 
displaced  by  machines,  and  who  have  thus  been  thrown  unem- 
ployed on  the  labor  market ; or  who  have  drifted  into  large  towns, 
especially  into  London,  because  in  the  country  there  was  no 
work  for  them.  At  best  the  great  majority  of  these  people  earn 
but  a scanty  and  precarious  living  ; and,  judging  from  the  num- 
ber of  hawkers  and  vendors  who  wander  about  suburban  streets 
and  roads  without  selling  anything,  one  would  imagine  that 
great  numbers  can  scarcely  make  any  living  at  all. 

Furthermore,  when  Kropotkin  refers  to  the  sweaters’  victims, 
and  to  the  people  in  country  places  who  make  on  a small  scale 
clothes  or  furniture  which  they  dispose  of  to  the  dealers  in  large 
towns,  and  so  forth,  let  it  be  remembered  that  so  long  as  human 
labor  is  cheaper  than  machinery  it  will  be  utilized  by  capitalists 
in  this  way.  The  capitalist  uses  or  does  not  use  machinery 
according  as  it  pays  or  does  not  pay ; and  if  he  can  draw  to  an 
unlimited  extent  on  the  margin  of  unemployed  labor,  paying  a 
bare  subsistence  wage,  he  will  do  so,  as  the  evidence  given  before 
the  House  of  Lords  Committee  on  Sweating  shews.  While 
admitting  then  that  a good  many  small  industries  exist,  and  that 
some  will  continue  to  exist  for  an  indefinite  time,  I do  not  think 
that  such  facts  make  against  the  general  proposition  that  the 
tendency  is  to  large  production  by  machinery,  involving  the 
grouping  of  men  and  the  massing  of  capital,  with  all  the  economic 
and  social  consequences  thereby  involved. 

Even  agriculture,  that  one  occupation  in  which  old-fashioned 
individualism  might  bo  supposed  safe,  is  being  subjected  to 
capitalism.  The  huge  farms  of  Dakota  and  California,  contain- 


INDUSTRIAL. 


63 


ing  single  fields  of  wheat  miles  long,  are  largely  owned  by  joint 
stock  corporations  and  cultivated  exclusively  by  machinery.  It 
was  the  displacement  of  human  labor  by  machinery  on  these 
farms  as  well  as  the  crises  in  mining  operations  which  helped  to 
bring  about  the  phenomenon  of  an  unemployed  class  in  the 
richest  region  of  the  world,  and  led  Mr.  Henry  George  to  write 
his  ‘‘  Progress  and  Poverty.  ” These  huge  farms,  combined 
with  the  wheat  corners  ” in  New  York  and  Chicago  and  the 
great  railway  corporations  of  America,  have  jilayed  havoc  with 
many  of  the  small  farmers  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  as  the 
statistics  respecting  mortgaged  farms  will  show.  And  when  it 
is  remembered  that  the  American  farmer  will  be  more  and  more 
obliged  to  meet  the  growing  competition  of  the  wheat  of  India, 
produced  by  the  cheapest  labor  in  the  world,  his  prospect  does 
not  appear  to  be  very  bright. 

In  order  to  perceive  clearly  the  immense  development  of  ma- 
chine industry  and  the  consequent  displacement  of  labor,  one 
must  resort  to  figures,  mere  rhetoric  being  of  no  avail.  The 
following  figures  are  cited  from  the  United  States,  because 
American  public  statistics  are  so  much  better  than  British, 
being  both  more  complete  and  more  accessible.  The  facts  are 
taken  from  the  first  Annual  Report  of  the  United  States  Com- 
missioner of  Labor  Statistics  in  Washington  for  1886.  The 
Commissioner,  inquiring  into  the  industrial  crisis,  finds  that  it  is 
mainly  due  to  the  immense  development  of  machine  industry 
under  the  joint-stock  system  ; and  he  takes  up  various  trades 
one  after  another  to  show  how  labor  has  been  displaced  by 
machinery.  In  the  timber  business,  he  says,  twelve  laborers 
with  a Bucker  machine  will  dress  12,000  staves.  The  same 
number  of  men  by  hand  labor  would  have  dressed  in  the  same  time 
only  2,500.  In  the  manufacture  of  paper  a machine  now  used 
for  drying  and  cutting,  run  by  four  men  and  six  girls,  will  do  the 
work  formerly  done  by  100  persons,  and  do  it  much  better.  In 
the  manufacture  of  wall-paper  the  best  evidence  puts  the  dis- 
placement in  the  proportion  of  a hundred  to  one.  In  a phos- 
phate mine  in  South  Carolina  ten  men  accomplish  with  ma- 
chinery what  1 00  men  handle  without  it  in  the  same  time.  There 
has  been  a displacement  of  50  per  cent  in  the  manufacture  of 
rubber  boots  and  shoes.  In  South  Carolina  pottery  the  product 
is  ten  times  greater  by  machine  processes  than  by  muscular 
labor.  In  the  manufacture  of  saws,  experienced  men  consider 


64 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


that  there  has  been  a displacement  of  three  men  out  of  five. 
In  the  weaving  of  silk  the  displacement  has  been  95  per  cent, 
and  in  the  winding  of  silk  90  per  cent.  A large  soap  manufact- 
uring concern  carefully  estimates  the  displacement  of  labor  in 
its  works  at  50  per  cent.  In  making  wine  in  California  a crush- 
ing machine  has  been  introduced  with  which  one  man  can  crush 
and  stem  80  tons  of  grapes  in  a day,  representing  an  amount  of 
work  formerly  requiring  eight  men.  In  woollen  goods  modern 
machinery  has, reduced  muscular  labor  33  per  cent  in  the  card- 
ing department,  50  per  cent  in  the  spinning,  and  25  per  cent  in 
the  weaving.  In  some  kinds  of  spinning  one  hundred  to  one  re- 
presents the  displacement.  In  the  whole  United  States  in  1886 
the  machinery  was  equal  to  3,500,000  horse  power.  If  men  only 
had  been  employed,  it  would  have  required  21,000,000  to  turn 
out  the  actual  total  product : the  real  number  was  four  millions. 
To  do  the  work  accomplished  in  1886  in  the  United  States  by 
power  machinery  and  on  the  railways  would  have  required  men 
representing  a population  of  172,500,000.  The  actual  popula- 
tion of  the  United  States  in  1886  was  something  under 
60,000,000,  or  a little  more  than  one-third. 

Commenting  on  these  very  remarkable  statistics,  the  Labor 
Commissioner  says : ‘‘  The  apparent  evils  resulting  from  the 
introduction  of  machinery  and  the  consequent  subdivision  of 
labor  have  to  a large  extent,  of  course,  been  offset  by  advan- 
tages gained  ; but  it  must  stand  as  a positive  statement,  which 
cannot  be  successfully  controverted,  that  this  wonderful  intro- 
duction and  extension  of  power  machinery  is  one  of  the  prime 
causes,  if  not  the  prime  cause,  of  the  novel  industrial  condition 
in  which  the  manufacturing  nations  find  themselves.’’  One  of 
the  results  of  the  novel  industrial  condition  ” in  America  in 
1885,  was  an  unemployed  class  variously  estimated  at  from  one 
to  two  millions  of  men,  the  condition  of  many  of  whom  as 
tramps,  furnished  subjects  for  some  very  sorry  jests  to  tlie 
American  press.  Such  facts  as  are  here  suggested,  will  show 
how  a new  country  may  soon  be  reduced  to  a condition  which 
aggregated  capital  on  the  one  hand  and  unemployed  labor  on 
the  other,  render  little  better  than  that  of  an  old  European 
State  with  its  centuries  of  misery  and  oppression.  And  inci- 
dentally they  also  show  that  such  a nostrum  as  emigration,  if 
intended  not  as  a palliative  but  as  a solution,  is  simply 
(juackery.  The  inference  would  seem  to  be  irresistible.  Just 


INDUSTRIAL. 


Go 


as  fast  as  capitalists  find  it  profitable  to  introduce  improved 
machinery,  as  fast  also  will  the  helplessness  of  a growing  num- 
ber of  the  proletariat  increase.  The  unemployed ’’ cpiestion 
is  the  sphinx  which  will  devour  us  if  we  cannot  answer  her 
riddle. 

The  wonderful  expansion  of  Lancashire  perhaps  affords  the 
best  illustration  of  the  cliange  from  individual  to  collective 
industry.  A cotton-mill  in  one  of  the  dismal  “ hell-holes,” 
called  towns  in  Lancashire,  is  a wonderful  place,  full  of  bewil- 
dering machines.  Here  is  a machine  called  an  ^‘opener,”  by 
which  15,000  lbs.  of  cotton  can  be  opened  in  56  hours.  There 
is  a throstle,  the  spindles  of  which  make  from  6,000  to  7,000 
revolutions  per  minute.  Here  is  a man  who,  with  the  aid  of 
two  piecers  to  take  up  and  join  the  broken  ends,  can  work 
2,000  spindles.  Among  the  distinct  separate  machines  used 
are  opener,  scutcher  and  lap  machine,  drawing  frame,  slubbing 
frame,  intermediate  frame,  roving  frame,  throstle,  self-acting 
mule  and  hand  mule,  doubling  frame,  and  mule  doublers  or 
twiners.  By  means  of  these  appliances  the  following  results 
have  been  attained.  Within  eight  years,  from  1792  to  1800, 
the  quantity  of  cotton  exported  from  the  United  States  to 
Lancashire  had  increased  from  138,000  lbs.  to  18,000,000 
lbs.  In  1801  Lancashire  took  84,000  bales  of  cotton  from  the 
United  States;  in  1876  she  took  2,075,000  bales;  and  whereas 
in  the  former  year  only  14,000  bales  came  from  India,  in 
1876  from  that  country  came  775,000  bales,  besides  a great 
increase  in  Brazilian  cotton,  and  a new  import  of  332,000  bales 
from  Egypt.  In  1805,  one  million  pieces  of  calico  were  sold 
in  the  Blackburn  market  during  the  whole  year ; and  that  was 
considered  a very  large  sale.  In  1884,  according  to  Ellison’s 
Annual  Review  of  the  Cotton  Trade,  there  were  exported 
4,417,000,000  yards  of  piece  goods  besides  the  vast  quantity 
produced  for  home  consumption.  In  1875,  in  place  of  the  little 
cottages  with  their  hand-looms  of  a century  before,  Lancashire 
contained  2,655  cotton  factories  with  37,515,772  spinning  spin- 
dles and  463,118  power  looms;  and  she  produced  yarn  and 
piece  goods  to  the  weight  of  1,088,890,000  lbs.  and  of  the 
value  of  £95,447,000.  See,  too,  how  through  the  use  of 
machinery  the  cost  of  production  had  been  lowered.  In  171U) 
the  price  of  spinning  the  yarn  known  technically  as  No.  100 
was  4s.  per  lb. : in  1826  it  had  been  reduced  to  6^d.  The  sale 


66 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


price  of  yarn  No.  100  in  1786  was  38s. : in  1793  it  was 
reduced  to  15s.  Id.,  in  1803  to  8s,  4d.,  in  1876  to  2s.  6d. 
The  decreased  cost  in  each  case  followed  on  economy  in  pro- 
duction, itself  dependent  on  increased  differentiation  in  ma- 
chinery ; that  in  turn  involving  larger  and  larger  capital,  and 
that  again  necessitating  aggregation  and  the  crushing  out  of 
small  concerns  which  could  not  command  machinery  or  sell  at 
a profit  ill  competition  with  it. 

Speculating  on  the  possibility  of  foreign  competition  de- 
stroying the  industrial  supremacy  of  Lancashire,  Mr.  Watts 
writes  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica : It  may  perhaps  be 
sufficient  to  recall  to  our  readers  the  small  part  of  the  cost  of 
the  commodity  which  now  belongs  to  the  labor  of  the  hand,  and 
the  daily  diminution  which  is  taking  place  even  of  that  part, 
by  the  introduction  of  new  mechanical  substitutes.”  ^ Mr. 
Watts  wrote  as  a expert;  and  the  inference  one  is  compelled  to 
draw  from  his  dictum  is  that  concentration  of  capital  and 
growth  of  monopoly  must  continue  to  develop  ; and  that  the 
^‘unemployed”  problem  must  force  itself  on  Lancashire.  One 
who  is  not  an  expert  will  only  venture  to  criticise  with  great 
diffidence  Mr.  Watts’s  optimistic  tone  ; but  it  is  well  to  point 
out  that  in  India  capitalists  can  command  the  cheapest  labor  in 
the  world  — labor  too,  at  present  entirely  unregulated  by  law. 
The  cotton  of  India,  and  also  of  Asiatic  Russia,  is  spun  and 
woven  near  to  where  it  is  grown,  and  where  it  can  easily  com- 
mand the  great  Asiatic  market.  One  is  not  surprised  to  find 
therefore  that  the  Bombay  cotton  mills  are  already  giving  cause 
for  some  anxiety  in  Lancashire ; and  there  seems  no  rational 
ground  for  supposing  that  that  anxiety  will  decrease ; in  which 
case  the  increasing  competition  would  seem  to  involve  in  Lan- 
cashire either  immense  development  of  machinery  or  reduction 
in  wages  in  order  to  cheapen  the  cost  of  production.  Either 
alternative  forces  the  social  problem  forward. 

I now  pass  on  to  consider  the  social  problem  as  it  has 
actually  been  forced  on  the  attention  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment through  tlie  new  industrial  conditions. 

Tlie  unrestrained  power  of  capitalism  very  speedily  reduced 
a large  part  of  England  to  a deplorable  condition.  The  Mrs. 
Jellybys  of  the  philanthropic  world  were  busy  ministering  to  the 


1 Enc.  Brit.,  art.  “ Cotton.' 


INDUSTRIAL. 


67 


wants  of  Borioboola  Gha  by  means  of  tracts  and  blankets, 
neither  of  which  were  of  the  slightest  use  to  those  for  whom 
they  were  intended.  But  Borioboola  Gha  was  an  earthly 
paradise  compared  with  civilized  England.  There  was  not  a 
savage  in  the  islands  of  the  Pacific  who  was  not  better  fed, 
happier,  healthier,  and  more  contented  than  the  majority  of  the 
workers  in  the  industrial  parts  of  England.  Children,  it  was 
discovered,  were  transferred  in  large  numbers  to  the  north, 
where  they  were  housed  in  pent-up  buildings  adjoining  the 
factories,  and  kept  to  long  hours  of  labor.  The  work  was 
carried  on  day  and  night  without  intermission  ; so  that  the  beds 
were  said  never  to  become  cold,  inasmuch  as  one  batch  of 
children  rested  while  another  batch  went  to  the  looms,  only 
half  the  requisite  number  of  beds  being  provided  for  all. 
Epidemic  fevers  were  rife  in  consequence.  Medical  inspectors 
reported  the  rapid  spread  of  malformation  of  the  bones,  curva- 
ture of  the  spine,  heart  diseases,  rupture,  stunted  growth, 
asthma,  and  premature  old  age  among  children  and  young  per- 
sons : the  said  children  and  young  persons  being  worked  by 
manufacturers  without  any  kind  of  restraint.  Manufacturing 
profits  in  Lancashire  were  being  at  the  same  time  reckoned  at 
hundreds  and  even  thousands  per  cent.  The  most  terrible  con- 
dition of  things  existed  in  the  mines,  where  children  of  both 
sexes  worked  together,  half  naked,  often  for  sixteen  hours  a 
day.  In  the  fetid  passages,  children  of  seven,  six,  and  even 
four  years  of  age,  were  found  at  work.  Women  were 
employed  underground,  many  of  them  even  while  pregnant,  at 
the  most  exhausting  labor.  After  a child  was  born,  its  mother 
was  at  work  again  in  less  than  a week,  in  an  atmosphere 
charged  with  sulphuric  acid.  In  some  places  women  stood  all 
day  knee-deep  in  water  and  subject  to  an  intense  heat.  One 
woman  when  examined  avowed  that  she  was  wet  through  all 
day  long,  and  had  drawn  coal  carts  till  her  skin  came  off. 
Women  and  young  children  of  six  years  old  drew  coal  along 
the  passages  of  the  mines,  crawling  on  all  fours  with  a girdle 
passing  round  their  waists,  harnessed  by  a chain  between  their 
legs  to  the  cart.  A sub-commissioner  in  Scotland  reported 
that  he  “ found  a little  girl,  six  years  of  age,  carrying  half  a 
cwt,  and  making  regularly  fourteen  long  journeys  a day.  The 
height  ascended  and  the  distance  along  the  road  exceeded  in 
each  journey  the  height  of  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral.”  I have 


68 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


repeatedly  worked,”  said  one  girl  seventeen  years  of  age,  for 
twenty-four  hours.”  The  ferocity  of  the  men  was  worse  than 
that  of  wild  beasts ; and  children  were  often  maimed  and  some- 
times killed  with  impunity.  Drunkenness  was  naturally  general. 
Short  lives  and  brutal  ones  were  the  rule.  The  men,  it  was 
said,  “ die  off  like  rotten  sheep  ; and  each  generation  is  com- 
monly extinct  soon  after  fifty.”  Such  was  a large  part  of  indus- 
trial England  under  the  unrestrained  rule  of  the  capitalist. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  far  greater  misery  prevailed  than 
in  the  Southern  States  during  the  era  of  slavery.  The  slave 
was  property  — often  valuable  property  ; and  it  did  not  pay  his 
owner  to  ill-treat  him  to  such  a degree  as  to  render  him  useless 
as  a wealth-producer.  But  if  the  free  ” Englishman  were 
injured  or  killed,  thousands  could  be  had  to  fill  his  place  for 
nothing. 

Had  this  state  of  things  continued  we  should  have  returned 
to  a state  of  nature  with  a vengeance.  Of  man  thus  depicted 
we  may  say  with  Tennyson  : 

“ Dragons  of  the  prime, 

That  tare  each  other  in  their  slime, 

Were  mellow  music  matchM  with  him.’’ 

It  was  evident  that  capitalist  monopoly  must  be  restrained, 
reluctant  as  English  statesmen  brought  up  under  the  com- 
mercial system  were  to  interfere.  The  zenith  of  laisser  faire 
was  at  the  close  of  the  last  century ; but  a great  fabric  often 
looks  most  imposing  shortly  before  it  begins  to  collapse.  The 
first  piece  of  labor  legislation  was  the  Morals  and  Health  Act 
of  1802,  which  interfered  with  the  accommodation  provided  to 
children  by  the  employers,  to  which  reference  has  been  made. 
The  Cotton  Mills  Act  was  passed  in  1819,  partly  owing  to  the 
exertions  of  Robert  Owen.  It  limited  the  age  at  which  children 
might  work  in  factories ; and  it  limited  the  time  of  their  labor 
to  seventy-two  hours  per  week.  Seventy-two  hours  for  a child 
of  nine  who  ought  to  have  been  playing  in  the  green  fields ! 
And  even  that  was  a vast  improvement  on  the  previous  state 
of  things.  Saturday  labor  was  next  shortened  by  an  Act  passed 
by  the  Radical  politician.  Sir  John  Cam  Hobhouse,  in  1825. 
Workmen,  Radicals,  Tories  and  Philanthropists  then  joined  in 
an  agitation  under  Mr.  Richard  Oastler,  a Conservative  member 
of  Parliament,  to  secure  a Ten  Hours’  Bill.  Hobhouse  tried  by 


INDUSTRIAL. 


69 


a Bill  introduced  in  1831  to  reduce  the  time  in  textile  industries  ; 
but  he  was  beaten  by  the  northern  manufacturers.  However, 
A1  thorp,  the  Whig  leader,  who  had  helped  to  defeat  Hobhouse, 
was  obliged  himself  to  introduce  a measure  by  which  night 
work  was  prohibited  to  young  persons,  and  the  hours  of  work 
were  reduced  to  sixty-nine  a week.  Cotton-mill  owners  were 
at  the  same  time  disqualified  for  acting  as  justices  in  cases  of 
infringement  of  the  law.  This  measure  is  regarded  by  Dr.  E. 
Von  Plener  in  his  useful  manual  as  the  first  real  Factory  Act. 
Mr.  Thomas  Sadler,  who  had  succeeded  Oastler  as  leader  in  the 
cause  of  the  factory  operatives,  brought  in  a Bill  in  1832  limit- 
ing the  hours  of  labor  for  persons  under  eighteen ; but  it  was 
met  by  a storm  of  opposition  from  manufacturing  members  and 
withdrawn. 

To  Sadler  succeeded  that  excellent  man,  who  has  perhaps 
done  more  for  the  working-classes  than  any  other  public  man 
of  our  time.  Lord  Ashley,  better  known  as  Lord  Shaftesbury. 
And  here  let  me  pause  to  point  out  that  it  was  the  Radicals 
and  a large  section  of  the  Tories  who  took  the  side  of  the 
operatives  against  the  Whigs,  official  Conservatives  and  manu- 
facturing class.  The  latter  class  is  sometimes  regarded  as 
Liberal.  I think  the  truth  is,  that  it  captured  and  held  for 
some  time  the  Liberal  fort,  and  made  Liberalism  identical  with 
its  policy  and  interests.  If  the  men  of  this  class  had  the  cynical 
candor  of  Mr.  Jay  Gould,  they  might  have  imitated  his  reply 
when  examined  by  a legislative  committee : “ What  are  your 
politics,  Mr.  Gould?”  ‘‘Well,  in  a Republican  district  I am 
Republican,  in  a Democratic  district  I am  a Democrat ; but  I 
am  always  an  Erie  Railroad  man.”  One  of  Lord  Ashley’s 
strong  opponents  was  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  son  of  a Lancashire 
capitalist;  but  the  most  bitter  and  persistent  was  Mr.  John 
Bright.  Lord  Ashley  introduced  a Ten  Hours’  Bill  which 
included  adults.  Lord  Althorp  refused  to  legislate  for  adults, 
but  himself  passed  an  Act  in  1833  prohibiting  night  work  to 
those  under  eighteen ; fixing  forty-eight  hours  per  week  as  the 
maximum  for  children,  and  sixty-nine  for  young  persons ; also 
providing  for  daily  attendance  at  school,  and  certain  holidays  in 
the  year.  As  this  Act  repealed  that  of  1831,  manufacturers 
were  again  eligible  to  sit  as  justices  in  factory  cases  ; and  al- 
though numerous  infractions  were  reported  by  inspectors,  the 
offenders  in  many  cases  got  off  scot  free.  In  1840  Lord  Ash- 


70 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


ley  brought  to  the  notice  of  Parliament  the  condition  of  young 
people  employed  in  mines  ; and  through  his  activity  was  passed 
tlie  first  Mining  Act,  prohibiting  underground  work  by  women 
and  by  boys  under  ten.  Peel  then  passed  a consolidating 
Factory  Act  in  1844.  Lord  Ashley  proposed  to  restrict  to  ten 
per  day  the  working  hours  for  young  persons  ; but  Peel  defeated 
the  proposal  by  threatening  to  resign  if  it  were  carried.  By 
the  Act  of  1844  the  labor  of  children  was  limited  to  six  and  a 
half  hours  per  day ; and  they  had  to  attend  school  three  hours 
daily  during  the  first  five  days  of  the  week.  The  next  year, 
1845,  Lord  Ashley  secured  the  passage  of  a Bill  forbidding 
night  work  to  women.  In  1847  Mr.  Fielden  introduced  a Bill 
limiting  the  time  of  labor  for  all  women  and  young  persons  to 
eleven  hours  per  day,  and  after  May,  1848,  to  ten  hours.  Peel 
and  the  factory  owners  opposed ; but  the  Bill  was  carried.  The 
Act  of  1850  further  reduced  the  legal  working  day  for  women 
and  young  persons ; and  an  Act  of  1853  prohibited  the  employ- 
ment of  children  before  6 A.  M.  or  after  6 r.  m.  In  1860  bleach- 
ing and  dyeing  works  were  subjected  to  the  factory  laws. 
Further  legislation  on  this  branch  of  industry  took  place  in  1870. 
A Mines  Act  was  passed  in  1860,  and  made  more  stringent 
ill  1862  with  reference  to  safety  and  ventilation.  Acts  with 
reference  to  the  lace  industry  were  passed  in  the  years  1861-64, 
to  bakehouses  in  1863,  chimney-sweeping  and  pottery  works  in 
1864.  The  Workshops  Regulation  Act,  relating  to  small  trades 
and  handicrafts,  was  passed  in  1867,  and  a consolidating  Fac- 
tory and  Workshops  Act  in  1871.  The  Act  now  in  force  is 
the  Factory  and  Workshops  Act,  1878,  modified  in  respect  of 
certain  industries  by  the  Act  of  1883.  Further  Acts  relative 
to  the  regulations  of  mines  were  passed  in  1872  and  1887. 

This  brief  and  imperfect  survey  of  the  legislation  which  has 
destroyed  the  regime  of  laisser  faire  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose 
to  prove:  (1)  That  with  private  property  in  the  necessary  in- 
struments of  production,  individual  liberty  as  understood  by  the 
eighteenth  century  reformers  must  be  more  and  more  restricted, 
i.  6.,  that  in  our  existing  economic  condition  individualism  is 
impossible  and  absurd.  (2)  That  even  hostile  or  indifferent 
})oliticians  liave  been  compelled  to  recognize  this.  (3)  That 
unrestrained  capitalism  tends  as  surely  to  cruelty  and  oppres- 
sion as  did  feudalism  or  chattel  slavery.  (4)  That  the  remedy 
lias  been,  as  a matter  of  fact,  of  a Socialistic  character,  involv- 


INDUSTRIAL. 


71 


ing  collective  checking  of  individual  greed  and  the  paring  of 
slices  off  the  profits  of  capital  in  the  interests  of  the  working 
community.  These  four  propositions  can  scarcely  be  con- 
tested. 

I'he  immense  development  of  English  industry  under  the 
conditions  ])reviously  set  forth  was  due  in  great  degree  to  the 
fact  that  England  had  secured  an  immense  foreign  market  in 
which  she  had  for  a long  time  no  formidable  rival.  Most  of 
the  wars  in  which  England  was  engaged  during  the  eighteenth 
century  are  quite  unintelligible  until  it  is  understood  that  they 
were  commercial  wars  intended  to  secure  commercial  supremacy 
for  England.  The  overthrow  of  the  Stuart  monarchy  was 
directly  associated  with  the  rise  to  supreme  power  of  the  rich 
middle  class,  especially  the  London  merchants.  The  revolution 
of  1G88  marks  the  definite  advent  to  political  power  of  this 
class,  which  found  the  Whig  party  the  great  instrument  for  ef- 
fecting its  designs.  The  contrast  between  the  old  Tory  squire 
who  stood  for  Church  and  King,  and  the  new  commercial  magnate 
who  stood  by  the  Whigs  and  the  House  of  Hanover,  is  well 
drawn  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  ‘‘Rob  Roy.”  The  Banks  of 
England  and  Scotland  and  the  National  Debt  are  among  the 
blessings  conferred  on  their  descendants  by  the  new  mercantile 
rulers.  They  also  began  the  era  of  corruption  in  politics,  which 
is  always  connected  closely  with  predominance  of  capitalists  in 
the  State,  as  we  see  in  France,  the  United  States  and  the 
British  Colonies.  “ The  desire  of  the  moneyed  classes,”  says 
Mr.  Lecky,^  “ to  acquire  political  power  at  the  expense  of  the 
country  gentlemen  was  the  first  and  one  of  the  chief  causes  of 
that  political  corruption  which  soon  overspread  the  whole 
system  of  parliamentary  government.”  What  remained  of  the 
old  aristocracy  often  found  it  convenient  to  form  alliances  with 
the  new  plutocracy  ; and  it  was  this  combination  which  governed 
England  during  the  eighteenth  century,  and  which  specially  de- 
termined her  foreign  policy.  That  policy  was  directed  towards 
the  securing  of  foreign  markets  and  the  extension  of  English 
trade.  Napoleon’s  sneer  at  the  “ nation  of  shopkeepers  ” was 
not  undeserved.  The  conquest  or  Canada,  the  conquest  of 
India  under  Clive  and  Warren  Hastings  ^ — the  latter  an  agent 
of  a great  capitalist  body,  who  illustrated  well  in  his  Indian 


1 History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century/^  i,  202. 


72 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


career  the  methods  of  his  class  — the  Colonial  policy,  the  base 
destruction  of  Irish  manufactures  in  the  interest  of  English 
capitalists,  were  all  part  of  the  same  scheme.  The  policy  was 
successfully  consummated  in  the  war  waged  by  Pitt  against  the 
French  Revolution.  That  revolution  was  itself  brought  about 
mainly  by  poverty.  Not  only  was  the  French  peasantry  beg- 
gared ; but  some  of  the  new  machinery  which  had  been  brought 
from  England  had  thrown  many  persons  out  of  work.  It  was 
mainly  unemployed  workmen  who  stormed  and  captured  the 
Bastille.^  The  chief  counterblast  to  the  Revolution  was  pre- 
pared by  Pitt.  What  were  his  motives  ? The  Austrian  and 
Prussian  monarchs,  the  emigrant  nobles,  the  imbecile  English 
king  and  the  Tory  English  bishops  may  perhaps  have  seriously 
believed  that  England  was  fighting  for  altar  and  throne.  But 
Pitt  was  under  no  such  delusion.  While  he  derived  from  his 
illustrious  father  a real  pride  in  England,  his  divinities  were 
rather  the  ledger  and  the  cash-box.  He  was  no  bigot:  even 
while  an  undergraduate  at  Cambridge  he  was  a close  student  of 
Adam  Smith ; he  started  in  public  life  as  a reformer,  and  his 
refusal  to  bow  to  the  ignorant  prejudices  of  George  III  cost 
him  office  in  1801.  It  has  been  abundantly  proved  that  at  first 
he  felt  no  violent  antipathy  to  the  Revolution.  A long  period 
elapsed  before  he  was  brought  to  join  the  monarchical  alliance. 
But  he  was  essentially  the  great  capitalist  statesman,  the  politi- 
cal successor  of  Walpole,  the  political  predecessor  of  Peel.  He 
saw  that  French  conquest  might  threaten  seriously  the  English 
social  fabric,  and  that  if  England’s  chief  rival  were  struck  down, 
the  English  commercial  class  might  gain  control  of  the  world’s 
commerce.  To  secure  that  end  he  skilfully  welded  together  all 
the  moneyed  interests^  the  contractors,  landlords,  financiers  and 
shopkeepers;  and  he  tried  to  persuade  the  simpler  portion  of 
the  country  that  he  was  fighting  for  the  sacred  cause  of  religion 
and  morality.  Those  who  resisted  him  he  flung  into  prison  or 
transported  beyond  the  seas.  When  the  long  war  was  brought 
to  an  end,  the  working-classes  were  in  a wretched  condition  ; 
although  in  those  days  also  there  were  sophistical  politicians 
who  tried  to  prove  that  never  had  the  people  so  much  reason 
to  be  contented.  When,  in  1823,  the  Lancashire  weavers 
petitioned  Parliament  to  look  into  their  grievances,  an  honor- 

^ See  the  evidence  contained  in  Vol.  I of  Mr.  Morse  Stephen’s  “His- 
tory of  the  French  Revolution.” 


INDUSTRIAL. 


73 


able  member,  who  had  presumably  dined  well  if  not  wisely, 
had  the  audacity  to  declare  that  the  weavers  were  better  off 
than  the  capitalists  — an  observation  not  dissimilar  to  those  we 
have  heard  in  more  recent  times.  As  a matter  of  fact,  the 
landlords,  through  protection  and  high  rents  — the  capitalists, 
through  enormous  profits,  were  enriched  ‘‘beyond  the  dreams 
of  avarice.”  But  the  time  had  come  for  a conflict  between 
these  two  classes : the  conflict  which  is  known  as  the  Free 
Trade  controversy.  Protection  was  no  longer  needed  by  the 
manufacturers,  who  had  supremacy  in  the  world-market,  un- 
limited access  to  raw  material,  and  a long  start  of  the  rest  of 
the  world  in  the  development  of  machinery  and  in  industrial 
organization.  The  landlord  class,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
absolutely  dependent  on  Protection,  because  the  economic 
isolation  of  England  by  means  of  import  duties  maintained  the 
high  prices  of  food  which  were  the  source  of  the  high  agri- 
cultural rents.  Capitalist  interests,  on  the  contrary,  were 
bound  up  with  the  interaction  between  England  and  the  rest  of 
the  world;  and  the  time  had  come  when  the  barriers  which 
had  prevented  that  interaction  must  be  pulled  down.  The 
triumph  of  Free  Trade  therefore  signifies  economically  the 
decay  of  the  old  landlord  class  pure  and  simple,  and  the  victory 
of  capitalism.  The  capitalist  class  was  originally  no  fonder  of 
Free  Trade  than  the  landlords.  It  destroyed  in  its  own  interest 
the  woollen  manufacture  in  Ireland  ; and  it  would  have  throttled 
the  trade  of  the  Colonies  had  it  not  been  for  the  successful 
resistance  of  Massachusetts  and  Virginia.  It  was  Protectionist 
so  long  as  it  suited  its  purpose  to  be  so.  But  when  cheap  raw 
material  was  needed  for  its  looms,  and  cheap  bread  for  its 
workers : when  it  feared  no  foreign  competitor,  and  had  estab- 
lished itself  securely  in  India,  in  North  America,  in  the  Pacific  ; 
then  it  demanded  Free  Trade.  “Nothing  in  the  history  of 
political  imposture,”  says  Mr.  Lecky,  “ is  more  curious  than 
the  success  with  which,  during  the  Anti-Corn  Law  agitation, 
the  notion  was  disseminated  that  on  questions  of  Protection 
and  Free  Trade  the  manufacturing  classes  have  been  peculiarly 
liberal  and  enlightened,  and  the  landed  classes  peculiarly  selfish 
and  ignorant.  It  is  indeed  true  that  when  in  the  present  cen- 
tury the  pressure  of  population  on  subsistence  had  made  a 
change  in  the  Corn  Laws  inevitable,  the  manufacturing  classes 
placed  themselves  at  the  head  of  a Free  Trade  movement  from 


74 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


which  they  must  necessarily  have  derived  the  chief  benefit, 
while  the  entire  risk  and  sacrifice  were  thrown  upon  others. 
But  it  is  no  less  true  that  there  is  scarcely  a manufacture  in 
England  which  has  not  been  defended  in  the  spirit  of  the  nar- 
rowest and  most  jealous  monopoly ; and  the  growing  ascen- 
dancy of  the  commercial  classes  after  the  Revolution  is  nowhere 
more  apparent  than  in  the  multiplied  restrictions  of  the  English 
Commercial  Code.”  ^ 

Cheap  raw  material  having  been  secured  by  the  English  manu- 
facturer through  a series  of  enactments  extending  over  a genera- 
tion ; and  machinery  having  been  so  developed  as  to  enormously 
increase  production,  England  sent  her  textile  and  metal  products 
all  over  the  world ; and  her  manufacturers  supported  exactly  that 
policy  which  enabled  them  to  secure  markets  for  their  goods  or 
raw  produce  to  work  up  in  their  mills.  Cobdenism  was  in  the 
ascendant ; and  the  State  was  more  and  more  regarded  from  the 
commercial  point  of  view.  The  so-called  Manchester  school  ” 
was  in  the  main  a peace  party,  because  war  weakens  that  confi- 
dence on  which  commerce  is  based.  But  this  attachment  to 
peace  principles  did  not  prevent  Cobden  himself  from  declaring 
for  a powerful  navy  as  an  instrument  of  commercial  insurance. 
Nor  did  it  prevent  Manchester  from  supporting  Palmerston's 
nefarious  Chinese  policy  in  1857,  or  the  equally  nefarious  ag- 
gression in  Egypt  in  1882 : both  being  regarded  as  helpful  to 
Manchester  trade.  In  behalf  of  this  extension  of  English  trade 
to  new  markets  war  has  been  made  on  China,  Egypt,  the 
Soudan,  Burmah,  and  Thibet.  Germany  follows  England  with 
cautious  tread.  Adventurers  like  Emin,  Stanley,  and  Bartelott 
are  employed  to  “ open  up  ” Africa  to  the  gentle  influences  of 
civilization  by  the  agency  of  rum  and  revolver,  under  the  pretence 
of  putting  down  the  slave  trade.  France,  not  to  be  beWd,  ex- 
ploits Tonquin  in  the  interests  of  Paris  speculators.  An  un- 
scrupulous government  in  Italy  attempts  to  divert  the  attention 
of  the  country  from  domestic  reforms  to  expeditions  in  Africa  in 
the  interests  of  moneyed  people  in  Europe.  Perhaps  the  great- 
est move  is  yet  to  come : the  move  on  the  vast  market  of  China. 
For  this  England,  America,  France,  and  Germany  will  compete. 
Tentative  steps  are  already  being  taken.  By  her  absorption  of 
Burmah  and  her  operations  in  Thibet,  England  is  approaching 


1 History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  iv,  450. 


INDUSTRIAL. 


75 


nearer  to  China.  By  lier  acciuisition  of  Tonquin,  France  lias 
been  brought  into  actual  contact  with  China.  America  will 
probably,  by  a judicious  reduction  of  her  tariff,  compete  with 
England  all  over  the  Pacific,  and  will  send  her  goods  from  the 
Atlantic  ports  through  the  Panama  or  Nicaragua  Canal  of  the 
near  future.  In  short,  the  machinery  for  the  wholesale  exploita- 
tion of  Asia  and  Africa  is  in  rapid  progress.  The  whole  globe 
will  soon  be  the  private  property  of  the  capitalist  class. 

The  appropriation  of  the  planet  has  been  powerfully  aided  by 
the  developments  of  transport  and  communication  in  our  time ; 
indeed,  it  would  have  been  impossible  without  them.  The  mere 
application  of  machinery  to  production  could  not  have  produced 
the  economic  results  of  to-day  but  for  the  shrinkage  of  the  globe 
caused  by  railways  and  telegraphs.  For  it  is  through  these  in- 
ventions that  the  capitalist  class  has  become  cosmopolitan,  has 
broken  up  old  habits,  destroyed  local  associations,  spared  nothing 
either  beautiful  or  venerable  where  profit  was  concerned.  It  has 
assimilated  the  conditions  of  life  in  various  lands,  and  has  brought 
about  a general  uniformity  which  accounts  for  much  of  the  ennui 
felt  in  modern  life. 

As  England  was  the  first  country  to  develop  machine  indus- 
try, so  was  she  the  first  to  develop  railways  and  to  form  a 
powerful  steam  mercantile  marine.  Through  the  latter  agency 
she  has  now  in  her  hands  about  sixty-four  per  cent  of  the  carry- 
ing trade  of  the  world.  Within  sixty  years  about  850,000  miles 
of  railway  have  been  built  throughout  the  globe.  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  are  united  by  several  lines  of  steel ; while  the  locomo- 
tive has  penetrated  remote  regions  of  Africa  inhabited  by  bar- 
barous tribes,  and  wastes  of  central  Asia  where  it  confronts  the 
relics  of  the  dead  and  buried  civilizations.  This  immense  power, 
the  greatest  in  the  modern  world,  is  mainly  in  the  hands  of  mo- 
nopolist corporations,  among  whom  there  is  the  same  necessary 
tendency  to  aggregation,  only  far  more  marked,  as  is  found  in 
productive  industries.  The  first  small  lines  built  to  connect 
towns  not  far  off  have  been  added  to  others  bit  by  bit ; as  from 
the  original  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway,  less  than  twenty 
miles  long,  we  get  the  great  and  wealthy  North  Eastern  Rail- 
way of  to-day.  In  America  a single  corporation  controls  as 
much  as  7,000  miles  of  rail : and  the  end  of  the  century  will 
perhaps  see  the  great  Siberian  Pacific  in  actual  existence.  As 
in  railways,  so  in  steam  vessels.  Huge  fleets  like  the  Cunard, 


76 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


the  Orient,  the  Messageries  Maritimes,  are  owned  by  cosmopolh 
tan  capital,  and  sustain  the  traffic  and  commerce,  not  of  a country, 
not  even  of  a continent,  but  of  the  whole  world.  Such  is  the 
immense  revolution  in  the  methods  of  distribution  effected  in 
our  time  by  the  operation  of  capitalism. 

We  must  now  consider  what  the  term  capitalist”  is  coming 
to  signify.  Had  the  term  been  used  half  a century  ago  it  would 
have  connoted  a class,  unscrupulous  perhaps  in  the  main,  with 
low  aims,  little  culture,  and  less  fine  sympathy  or  imagination. 
It  was  nevertheless  a socially  useful  class,  which  at  that  time 
performed  real  service.  It  is  a leading  thought  in  modern  phil- 
osophy that  in  its  process  of  development  each  institution  tends 
to  cancel  itself.  Its  special  function  is  born  out  of  social  neces- 
sities : its  progress  is  determined  by  attractions  or  repulsions 
which  arise  in  society,  producing  a certain  effect  which  tends  to 
negate  the  original  function.  Thus  early  society  among  the 
Aryan  peoples  of  Europe  develops  a leader  in  war  or  council 
who  grows,  by  processes  which  in  England,  e,  g,,  can  be  clearly 
traced,  into  a king  with  genuine  functions,  a leader  of  the  people 
in  war  like  William  I,  or  a powerful  civil  ruler  and  statesman 
like  Henry  I.  The  fact  that  such  men  were  brutal  or  wicked  is 
of  little  account : the  important  fact  about  them  is,  that  in  a 
barbarous  chaotic  society  they  performed  some  indispensable 
services.  But  the  very  putting  forth  of  the  kingly  power  arouses 
antagonism;  then  produces  armed  resistance  by  a combined 
group  ; and  finally  leads  to  overthrow  either  by  the  destruction 
of  the  king  or  by  depriving  him  of  all  real  power  and  reducing 
him  to  a mere  ornamental  puppet.  The  very  power  originally 
believed  to  be  beneficent  becomes  tyrannical : it  needs  to  be 
checked  more  and  more,  until  finally  it  practically  ceases  to  exist, 
and  the  curious  paradox  is  seen  of  a monarch  who  does  not  rule. 
History  proves  abundantly  that  men  do  not  rise  and  overthrow 
wicked  and  corrupt  rulers  merely  because  they  are  wicked  and 
corrupt.  It  is  part  of  the  terrible  irony  of  history  that  a Louis 
XV  dies  in  his  bed,  while  a William  the  Silent  or  a Lincoln 
falls  a victim  to  the  assassin.  What  men  do  not  long  tolerate 
is  either  obstructiveness  or  uselessness. 

Now,  if  we  apply  these  ideas  to  the  evolution  of  the  capitalist, 
what  is  it  we  see  ? The  capitalist  was  originally  an  entrepreneur^ 
a manager  who  worked  hard  at  his  business,  and  who  received 
what  economists  have  called  the  “ wages  of  superintendence.” 


INDUSTKIAL. 


77 


So  long  as  the  capitalist  occupied  that  position,  lie  miglit  be  re- 
strained and  controlled  in  various  ways  ; but  he  could  not  bo  got 
rid  of.  His  “ wages  of  superintendence  ” were  certainly  often 
exorbitant ; but  he  performed  real  functions  ; and  society,  as  yet 
unprepared  to  take  those  functions  upon  itself,  could  not  afford 
to  discharge  him.  Yet,  like  the  King,  he  had  to  be  restrained 
by  the  legislation  already  referred  to  ; for  his  power  involved 
much  suffering  to  his  fellows.  But  now  the  capitalist  is  fast 
becoming  absolutely  useless.  Finding  it  easier  and  more  rational 
to  combine  with  others  of  his  class  in  a large  undertaking,  he 
has  now  abdicated  his  position  of  overseer,  has  put  in  a salaried 
manager  to  perform  his  work  for  him,  and  has  become  a mere 
rent  or  interest  receiver.  The  rent  or  interest  he  receives  is 
paid  for  the  use  of  a monopoly  which  not  he,  but  a whole  mul- 
titude of  people,  created  by  their  joint  efforts. 

It  was  inevitable  that  this  differentiation  of  manager  and 
capitalist  should  arise.  It  is  part  of  the  process  of  capitalist 
evolution  due  to  machine  industry.  As  competition  led  to  waste 
in  production,  so  it  led  to  the  cutting  of  profits  among  capi- 
talists. To  prevent  this  the  massing  of  capital  was  necessary, 
by  which  the  large  capitalists  could  undersell  his  small  rivals 
by  offering,  at  prices  below  anything  they  could  afford  to  sell 
at,  goods  produced  by  machinery  and  distributed  by  a plexus 
of  agencies  initially  too  costly  for  any  individual  competitor  to 
purchase  or  set  on  foot.  Now  for  such  massive  capitals,  the 
contributions  of  several  capitalists  are  needed  ; and  hence  has 
arisen  the  Joint  Stock  Company  or  Compagnie  Anonyme, 
Through  this  new  capitalist  agency  a person  in  England  can 
hold  stock  in  an  enterprise  at  the  Antipodes  which  he  has  never 
visited  and  never  intends  to  visit,  and  which,  therefore,  he  can- 
not superintend  ” in  any  way.  He  and  the  other  shareholders 
put  in  a manager  with  injunctions  to  be  economical.  The  man- 
ager’s business  is  to  earn  for  his  employers  the  largest  dividends 
possible : if  he  does  not  do  so  he  is  dismissed.  The  old  per- 
sonal relation  between  the  workers  and  the  employer  is  gone  ; 
instead  thereof  remains  merely  the  cash  nexus.  To  secure  high 
dividends  the  manager  will  lower  wages.  If  that  is  resisted 
there  will  probably  be  either  a strike  or  lock-out.  Cheap  labor 
will  be  perhaps  imported  by  the  manager;  and  if  the  work- 
people resist  by  intimidation  or  organized  boycotting,  the  forces 
of  the  State  (which  they  help  to  maintain)  will  be  used  against 


78 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


them.  In  the  majority  of  cases  tliey  must  submit.  Such  is  a 
not  unfair  picture  of  the  relation  of  capitalist  to  workman  to- 
day : the  former  having  become  an  idle  dividend-receiver.  The 
dictum  of  orthodox  political  economy,  uttered  by  so  competent 
an  authority  as  the  late  Professor  Cairnes,  runs  : — 

It  is  important,  on  moral  no  less  than  on  economic  grounds,  to  in- 
sist upon  this,  that  no  public  benetit  of  any  kind  arises  from  the  exist- 
ence of  an  idle  rich  class.  The  wealth  accumulated  by  their  ancestors 
and  others  on  their  behalf,  where  it  is  employed  as  capital,  no  doubt 
helps  to  sustain  industry ; but  what  they  consume  in  luxury  and  idle- 
ness is  not  capital,  and  helps  to  sustain  nothing  but  their  own  unprofit- 
able lives.  By  all  means  they  must  have  their  rents  and  interest,  as  it 
is  written  in  the  bond ; but  let  them  take  their  proper  place  as  drones 
in  the  liive,  gorging  at  a feast  to  which  they  have  contributed 
nothing.^’  i 

The  fact  that  the  modern  capitalist  may  be  not  only  useless  but 
positively  obstructive  was  well  illustrated  at  a meeting  of  the 
shareholders  of  the  London  and  South  Western  Railway  on  7 th 
February  last.  Three  shareholders  urged  a reduction  in  third- 
class  fares.  The  chairman  pointed  out  the  obvious  fact  that 
such  a reduction  would  probably  lower  the  dividend,  and  asked 
the  meeting  if  that  was  what  they  wished.  He  was,  of  course, 
answered  by  a chorus  of  “ No,  no  ! ” and  all  talk  of  reduction 
of  fares  was  at  an  end.  Here  is  a plain  sample  (hundreds 
might  be  quoted)  of  the  evident  interests  of  the  public  being 
sacrificed  to  those  of  the  capitalist. 

That  joint-stock  capitalism  is  extending  rapidly  everyone 
knows.  In  the  United  States,  according  to  Mr.  Bryce,  the 
wealth  of  joint-stock  corporations  is  estimated  at  one-fourth  of 
the  total  value  of  all  property.^  In  England  every  kind  of 
business,  from  breweries,  banks,  and  cotton-mills  down  to  auto- 
matic sweetmeat  machines,  is  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  joint- 
stock  capitalist,  and  must  continue  to  do  so.  Twenty  years  ago 
who  would  have  supposed  that  a brewery  like  that  of  Guinness 
or  such  a banking  firm  as  Glyn  Mills,  and  Co.  would  become 
a joint-stock  company?  Yet  we  know  it  is  so  to-day.  Capi- 
talism is  becoming  impersonal  and  cosmopolitan.  And  the 
combinations  controlling  production  become  larger  and  fewer. 
Baring’s  are  getting  hold  of  the  South  African  diamond  fields : 

1 Some  Leading  Princdples  of  Political  Economy,^’  p.  32. 

2 The  American  Commonwealth,^^  hi,  note  on  p.  421. 


INDUSTRIAL. 


79 


A few  companies  control  the  whole  anthracite  coal  produce  of 
Pennsylvania.  Each  one  of  us  is  quite  ‘^free’’  to  compete  ’’ 
with  these  gigantic  com})inations,  as  the  Principality  of  Monaco 
is  “free’’  to  go  to  war  with  France  should  the  latter  threaten 
lier  interests.  The  mere  forms  of  freedom  remain ; but 
monopoly  renders  them  nugatory.  The  modern  State,  having 
parted  with  the  raw  material  of  the  globe,  cannot  secure  free- 
dom of  competition  to  its  citizens  ; and  yet  it  was  on  the  basis  of 
free  competition  that  capitalism  rose.  Thus  we  see  that  capi- 
talism has  cancelled  its  original  principle  — is  itself  negating 
its  own  existence.  Before  considering  its  latest  forms,  atten 
tion  may  here  be  conveniently  directed  to  the  Co-operative 
movement,  which  is,  on  one  side  at  any  rate,  closely  allied  to 
the  joint-stock  development. 

The  Co-operative  movement  had  in  England  a Socialistic 
origin  : for  its  founder  was  Robert  Owen.  As  Mr.  Seligman 
says  very  truly  in  the  Political  Science  Quarterly  : “ Owen  was 
the  founder  of  the  Co-operative  movement  in  England,  a fact 
often  ignored  by  those  who  glibly  use  the  word  to-day  with  an 
utter  failure  to  discern  its  true  significance.”  And  Owen  him- 
self avowed  that  his  grand  ultimate  object  was  “ community  in 
land,”  with  which  he  hoped  would  be  combined  “unrestrained 
co-operation  on  the  part  of  all,  for  every  purpose  of  human 
life.”  It  is  thus  important  to  associate  co-operation  with  Rob- 
ert Owen  — clarum  et  venerahile  Tzomm —because  there  are 
many  persons  who  suppose  that  co-operation  began  with  the 
Rochdale  Pioneers  in  1844.  What  the  Rochdale  movement 
really  did  was  to  commence  the  process  of  joint-stock  shop- 
keeping, a very  different  thing  from  that  which  Owen  had  in 
view. 

A powerful  impetus  was  given  to  co-operation  by  the  Chris- 
tian Socialist  movement  under  Maurice  and  Kingsley.  “ Of  all 
narrow,  conceited,  hyprocritical,  anarchic  and  atheistic  schemes 
of  the  Universe,”  said  Kingsley,  “ The  Cobden  and  Bright  one 
is  exactly  the  worst.”  The  orthodox  economic  conclusions  of 
the  day  fared  badly  at  Kingsley’s  hands.  “ The  man  who  tells 
us,”  said  he,  “ that  we  ought  to  investigate  Nature,  simply  to 
sit  patiently  under  her,  and  let  her  freeze,  and  ruin,  and  starve, 
and  stink  us  to  death,  is  a goose,  whether  he  calls  himself  a 
chemist  or  a political  economist.”  These  Christian  Socialist 
leaders  felt  deeply  the  anguish  and  poverty  of  the  workers  and 


80 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


the  selfish  apathy  of  the  rich.  Mammon/’  says  Kingsley, 
shrieks  benevolently  whenever  a drunken  soldier  is  flogged  ; 
but  he  trims  his  paletot  and  adorns  his  legs  with  the  flesh  of 
men  and  the  skins  of  women,  with  degradation,  pestilence, 
heathendom,  and  despair  ; and  then  chuckles  complacently  over 
his  tailor’s  bills.  Hypocrite  ! straining  at  a gnat  and  swallow- 
ing a camel.”  All  this  is  very  admirable  ; but  cheap  clothes 
are  not  made  solely  or  chiefly  for  Mammon,  but  for  the  masses, 
who  are  poor  people.  It  is  part  of  the  sad  irony  of  the  situ- 
ation that  the  great  majority  are  obliged  to  accept  the  alterna- 
tive of  cheap  clothes  or  none  at  all.  And  as  the  English 
climate  and  the  British  matron  combine  to  exercise  an  absolute 
veto  over  the  latter  form  of  prehistoric  simplicity,  it  follows 
that  one  portion  of  the  working-classes  must,  in  order  to  be 
clothed,  connive  at  the  sweating  of  another  portion. 

The  Christian  Socialist^  which  was  the  organ  of  Maurice 
and  Kingsley,  betrayed  great  simplicity  as  to  the  real  nature  of 
the  economic  problem.  It  neglected  Owen’s  principle  of  com- 
munity in  land,”  and  supposed  that  by  working  together  and 
selling  articles  of  good  quality  at  a fair  price  poverty  could  be 
eliminated,  while  yet  every  worker  in  the  community  was  pay- 
ing his  tribute  of  economic  rent  to  the  owners  of  the  instru- 
ments of  production.  Thus  the  movement  had  no  economic 
basis ; and  when  the  moral  idealism  had  departed  from  it,  no 
wonder  that  it  degenerated  into  mere  divvy  ” hunting  and 
joint-stock  shop-keeping.  The  economic  advantages  of  joint- 
stock  shop-keeping  are  thus  summed  up  by  Mr.  Robert 
Somers  in  the  “ Encyclopaedia  Britannica  ” (Art.,  Co-opera- 
tion ” ) : ‘‘  Wholesome  commodities,  ready-money  payments,  a 
dividend  of  from  five  to  ten  per  cent  on  share  capital,  and  a 
bonus  to  non-members  on  the  amount  of  their  purchases.”  As 
joint-stock  shop-keeping,  co-operation  is  a useful  and  cheap 
metliod  of  distribution,  which  has  doubtless  benefited  a con- 
siderable number  of  persons  ; but  the  notion  that  it  can  solve 
the  economic  problem  before  society  is  “ chimerical,”  as  Dr. 
J.  K.  Ingram  tells  us  is  the  opinion  of  modern  economists.^ 
This,  indeed,  might  only  be  expected  from  the  fact  that  961  out 
of  every  1,000  persons  in  England  die  without  furniture, 
investments,  or  effects  worth  £300. Economically  considered, 

1 “ Encyclopaedia  Britannica  ” : Art.,  Political  Economy.” 

2 Mulhall : “ Dictionary  of  Statistics.” 


INDUSTRIAL. 


81 


co-operation  is,  now  that  the  initial  enthusiasm  has  died  out  of 
it,  a subsidiary  branch  of  the  great  joint-stock  enterprise. 
Ethically  considered,  its  results  are  often  doubtful.  In  its  chief 
stronghold,  Lancashire,  one  observes  a narrow  selfishness  among 
its  votaries,  which  could  not  be  surpassed  in  the  most  genteel 
quarters  of  Bays  water.  Its  ideal  is  not  the  raising  of  the 
working  class  as  a whole,  but  the  raising  of  certain  per- 
sons out  of  the  working  into  the  middle  class.  If  the  ad- 
vocates of  co-operation  will  abate  their  pretensions,  and 
claim  merely  (1)  that  their  method  is  a useful  and 
economic  means  of  distribution  among  the  lower-middle  and 
upper-working  classes ; and  (2)  that  by  its  agency  working 
men  can  learn  the  important  functions  of  organization  and  ad- 
ministration, their  claim  will  be  freely  admitted.  But  if  they 
go  further  their  vaulting  ambition  will  o’erleap  itself.  At  the 
present  rate  of  progress  made  by  co-operative  societies  as  com- 
pared with  joint-stock  capitalist  companies,  several  generations 
will  be  in  their  graves  before  any  deep  or  general  impression  is 
made.  And  meanwhile,  unless  economic  rent  is  diverted  from 
the  class  which  at  present  absorbs  it  to  the  community  which 
creates  it,  co-operators,  like  the  rest  of  us,  must  pay  tribute  to 
the  lords  of  the  soil  and  of  money.  But  the  noteworthy  fact 
about  co-operation,  is  that  its  very  existence  testifies  to  the 
process  of  industrial  and  capitalist  aggregation  here  insisted 
on  as  the  great  social  factor  of  our  period.  For  co-operative 
societies  supersede  individual  by  social  distribution,  effecting  it 
without  the  waste  attendant  on  a number  of  little  shops  all 
competing  against  each  other,  the  owners  of  none  of  which  can 
make  a decent  living.  Co-operation,  therefore,  well  illustrates 
the  economic  evolution  of  the  present  age. 

I now  come  to  treat  of  the  latest  forms  of  capitalism,  the 
ring ’’and  the  trust,”  whereby  capitalism  cancels  its  own 
principles,  and.  as  a seller,  replaces  competition  by  combina- 
tion. When  capitalism  buys  labor  as  a commodity  it  effects 
the  purchase  on  the  competitive  principle.  Its  indefinitely  ex- 
tended market  enables  it  to  do  so ; for  it  knows  that  the  work- 
man must  sell  his  labor  to  secure  the  means  to  live.  Other 
things  being  equal,  therefore,  it  buys  its  labor  in  the  cheapest 
market.  But  when  it  turns  round  to  face  the  public  as  a seller, 
it  casts  the  maxims  of  competition  to  the  winds,  and  presents 
itself  as  a solid  combination.  Competition,  necessary  at  the 


82 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


outset,  is  found  ultimately,  if  unchecked,  to  be  wasteful  and 
ruinous.  It  entails  great  expense  in  advertising ; it  necessitates 
the  employment  of  much  unproductive  labor;  it  tends  to  the 
indefinite  lowering  of  prices  ; it  produces  gluts  and  crises,  and 
renders  business  operations  hazardous  and  precarious.  To  es- 
cape these  consequences,  the  competing  persons  or  firms  agree 
to  form  a close  combination  to  keep  up  prices,  to  augment 
profits,  to  eliminate  useless  labor,  to  diminish  risk,  and  to 
control  the  output.  This  is  a ring,”  which  is  thus  a federa- 
tion of  companies.  The  best  examples  of  ‘‘rings”  and 
“ pools  ” are  to  be  found  in  America,  where  capitalism  is  more 
unrestrained  and  bolder  in  its  operations  than  in  Europe ; and 
also  where  nearly  all  the  active  intellect  is  attracted  to  those 
commercial  pursuits  that  dominate  American  life. 

The  individualist  devotees  of  laisser  faire  used  to  teach  us 
that  when  restrictions  were  removed,  free  competition  would 
settle  everything.  Prices  would  go  down,  and  fill  the  “ con- 
sumer ” with  joy  unspeakable  ; the  fittest  would  survive ; and 
as  for  the  rest  — it  was  not  very  clear  what  would  become  of 
them,  and  it  really  didn’t  matter.  No  doubt  the  “consumer” 
has  greatly  benefited  by  the  increase  in  production  and  the  fall 
in  prices  ; but  where  is  “ free  competition  ” now  ? Almost  the 
only  persons  still  competing  freely  are  the  small  shop-keepers, 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  insolvency,  and  the  working-men, 
competing  with  one  another  for  permission  to  live  by  work. 
Combination  is  absorbing  commerce.  Here  are  a few  instances 
of  the  formation  of  rings. 

A steel  rail  combination  was  some  years  ago  formed  among 
previously  competing  firms  in  America.  This  combination 
discovered  that  too  many  rails  were  being  made  and  that  prices 
were  being  cut.  Accordingly,  one  of  the  mills  in  the  combina- 
tion— the  Vulcan  mill  of  St.  Louis  — was  closed,  and  stood 
smokeless  for  years : its  owners  meanwhile  receiving  a subsidy 
of  $400,000  a year  from  the  other  mills  in  the  combination  for 
7iot  making  rails.  That  is  how  the  owners  of  the  Vulcan  mill 
earned  their  “wages  of  superintendence.”  It  is  needless  to 
add  that  no  payment  was  made  to  the  men  for  not  working: 
they  were  thrown  on  the  streets  to  meditate  on  the  right  to 
“ liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,”  secured  to  them  by  the 
Decdaration  of  Independence. 

Or,  again,  take  the  case  of  the  anthracite  coal  lands  of 


INDUSTRIAL. 


83 


Peiiusylvania,  occupying  an  area  of  some  270,000  acres,  and 
held  by  the  Reading  Coal  and  Iron  Company,  the  Lehigh 
Valley  Railroad,  the  Delaware,  Lackawanna  and  Western 
Railroad,  the  Delaware  and  Hudson  Railroad,  the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad,  the  Pennsylvania  Coal  Company,  and  smaller  firms 
and  corporations  tributary  to  these.  The  rich  owners,  popu- 
larly known  as  the  coal  barons,”  agree  to  fix  absolutely  the 
wholesale  price  of  coal,  always  securing  an  immense  rise  just 
before  the  winter  sets  in.  There  is  no  such  thing  known  or 
possible  as  free  trade  or  open  competition  in  the  anthracite  coal 
produce  of  America. 

Combinations  in  the  United  States  have  been  made  by  the 
Western  millers,  the  New  York  icemen,  Boston  fish  dealers, 
manufacturers  of  sewer-pipe,  copper  miners,  makers  of  lamps, 
pottery,  glass,  hoop-iron,  shot,  rivets,  candy,  starch,  sugar, 
preserved  fruits,  glucose,  chairs,  vapor  stoves,  lime,  rubber, 
screws,  chains,  harvesting  machinery,  pins,  salt,  hardware,  type, 
brass  tubing,  silk  and  wire.  In  these  trades  freedom  of  produc- 
tion and  sale  has  been  for  a time  partially  or  wholly  destroyed. 
The  American  business  man  is  very  angry  when  boycotting  is 
resorted  to  by  workmen  ; but  he  is  quite  ready  to  boycott  others 
when  his  interests  lead  that  way.  The  stamped  tinware  makers 
in  1882,  formed  a ring  and  expelled  members  who  sold  at  lower 
prices  than  the  fixed  rates,  and  refused  to  allow  anyone  in  the 
pool  to  sell  to  the  offenders.  Some  of  the  previous  facts  are 
taken  from  an  article  by  Mr  Henry  D.  Lloyd,^  who  has  investi- 
gated capitalist  combinations  with  much  knowledge  and  insight. 
From  the  same  article  I quote  the  following : 

On  the  1st  of  April,  1882,  when  the  rest  of  us  were  lost  in  the  reck- 
less gaity  of  All  Fools^  Day,  forty-one  tack  manufacturers  found  out 
that  there  were  too  many  tacks,  and  formed  the  Central  Manufacturing 
Company  of  Boston,  with  3,000,000  dollars  capital.  The  tack-mills  in 
the  combination  ran  about  three  days  in  the  week.  When  this  com- 
bination a few  weeks  ago  silenced  a Pittsburg  rival  by  buying  him  out, 
they  did  not  remove  the  machinery.  The  dead  chimneys  and  idle  ma- 
chines will  discourage  new  men  from  starting  anotlier  factory,  or  can 
be  run  to  ruin  them  if  they  are  not  to  be  discouraged  in  any  other  way. 
The  first  fruits  of  the  tack-pool  were  an  increase  of  prices  to  twice 
what  they  had  been."’ 

Again  I quote  Mr.  Lloyd  : 

The  men  who  make  our  shrouds  and  coffins  have  formed  a close 


1 “Lords  of  Industry.’'  North  American  Review,  June,  1834. 


84 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


corporation  known  as  the  ^National  Burial  Case  Association/ and  held 
their  annual  convention  in  Chicago  last  year.  Their  action  to  keep  up 
prices  and  keep  down  the  number  of  coffins  was  secret,  lest  mortality 
should  be  discouraged.” 

From  coffins  to  crackers  is  a short  step  in  the  study  of  capi- 
talist methods ; 

‘‘The  Western  Cracker  Bakers^  Association  met  in  Chicago,  in  Feb- 
ruary, to  consider  among  other  things  ‘ the  reprehensible  system  of 
cutting  prices  ’ {i.  e.,  the  reprehensible  system  of  free  competition  which 
capitalists  in  buying  labor  tell  us  is  our  salvation).  They  first  had  a 
banquet.  After  their  ‘merriment  and  diversion’  the  revellers,  true  to 
Adam  Smith’s  description,  turned  to  consider  ‘ some  contrivance  to 
raise  prices.’  ‘ The  price-lists  were  perfected,’  said  the  newspaper  re- 
port; ‘ and  then  they  adjourned.’” 

In  1875  broke  out  a severe  competition  among  the  fire  in- 
surance companies,  upon  the  collapse  of  a previous  pool ; and 
the  competition  cost  them  in  New  York  City  alone  $17,500,000 
in  seven  years.  Consequently  in  1882  they  made  a new 
combination  which  covei^ed  the  whole  country,  and  which  Mr. 
Lloyd  declares  to  be  wealthy,  cohesive,  and  powerful.  Though 
there  is  no  pool  or  ring,  I am  credibly  informed  that  there  is 
a common  understanding  among  the  fire  insurance  companies 
of  London.  One  of  the  most  noted  of  combinations  has  been 
the  great  Copper  Syndicate  which  attracted  world-wide  atten- 
tion early  in  1888.  It  was  formed  by  some  French  speculators 
in  October,  1887,  and  during  the  eighteen  months  of  its  exist- 
ence, maintained  copper  at  a purely  arbitrary  price  in  all  the 
markets  of  the  world.  At  its  head  was  M.  Eugmie  Secretan, 
managing  director  of  the  Societe  des  Mc'Taux,  the  world’s 
largest  buyer  of,  and  dealer  in,  manufactured  copper.  The 
syndicate’s  agents  bought  all  the  copper  that  was  visible  and 
for  sale,  the  result  of  their  speculation  beiug  that  the  price  of 
copper  in  the  London  market  rose  from  less  than  £40  to  over 
£80  a ton,  and  the  price  of  Lake  Superior  co})per  in  America 
rose  from  10|-  cents  to  17f  cents  per  pound.  M.  Secretan 
informed  a London  journal  that  his  designs  were  purely  philan- 
thropic. Our  only  purpose,”  said  he,  is  that  every  miner, 
dealer  and  manufacturer  should  have  fair  remuneration  for  his 
work.”  Thanks  to  M.  Secretan’s  philanthropy,  copper,  tin, 
lead  and  spelter  rose  enormously  in  price  ; several  trades  were 
more  or  less  paralysed  ; and  in  France  large  numbers  of  work^ 


INDUSTRIAL. 


85 


men  were  thrown  out  of  employment.  And  let  it  not  be  sup- 
posed that  the  suicide  of  M.  Denfert-Rochereau,  which  her- 
alded the  collapse  of  this  first  attempt  to  corner  the  world’s 
copper  — a collapse  due  to  a miscalculation  of  the  extent  to 
which  the  supply  of  copper  could  increase  under  the  stimulus 
of  high  prices  — offers  us  any  security  against  a repetition 
of  the  attempt.  On  the  contrary,  it  has  shewn  how  the 
thing  may  be  safely  done.  The  metal  hoarded  by  the  un- 
lucky speculators  is  still  so  far  cornered  that  it  has  been  ke})t 
off  the  market  up  to  the  present,  prices  being  not  yet  normal. 
“ To  a regular  trust  it  must  and  will  come  at  last,”  says  Mr. 
E.  Benjamin  Andrews,  of  Cornell  University.  Nor  has 
aught  taken  place  to  indicate  that  a Copper  Trust,  organized 
like  the  Standard  Oil  Trust,  with  its  energy  and  relentless 
methods,  would  fail.”  ^ 

The  Individualist  who  supposes  that  Free  Trade  plus  private 
property  will  solve  all  economic  problems  is  naturally  surprised 
at  these  rings,”  which  upset  all  his  crude  economic  notions  ; 
and  he  very  illogically  asks  for  legislation  to  prevent  the  natural 
and  inevitable  results  of  the  premises  with  which  he  starts.  It 
is  amusing  to  note  that  those  who  advocate  what  they  call  self- 
reliance  and  self-help  are  the  first  to  call  on  the  State  to  interfere 
with  the  natural  results  of  that  self-help,  of  that  private  enter- 
prise, when  it  has  overstepped  a purely  arbitrary  limit.  Why, 
on  ordinary  commercial  principles,  should  not  a copper  syndi- 
cate grasp  all  the  copper  in  the  world?  It  is  merely  the  fittest 
surviving.  The  whole  case  against  Socialism  is  assumed  by  its 
most  intelligent  opponents  to  lie  in  that  Darwinian  theory.  And 
yet  when  the  copper  syndicate  or  the  coal  barons  ” survive,  they 
arouse  against  themselves  the  fiercest  and,  from  the  commercial 
point  of  view,  the  most  unreasonable  antagonism.  As  sin  when 
it  is  finished  is  said  to  bring  forth  death,  so  capitalism  when  it  is 
finished  brings  forth  monopoly.  And  one  might  as  well  quarrel 
with  that  plain  fact  as  blame  thorns  because  they  do  not  produce 
grapes,  or  thistles  because  they  are  barren  of  figs. 

The  story  of  the  growth  of  capitalism  is  not  yet  complete. 
The  “ ring  ” is  being  succeeded  by  a more  elaborate  organization 
known  as  the  “ trust.”  Although  in  England  great  combinations 
like  the  Salt  Union  are  rapidly  rising,  yet  we  must  again  travel 

1 Quarterly  Journal  of  Economics,  July,  1889. 


86 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


to  America  to  learn  what  the  so-called  trust  ’’  is.  The  fullest 
information  on  the  subject  of  trusts  is  contained  in  a report  of 
a Committee  of  the  New  York  State  Legislature,  which  was 
appointed  to  investigate  the  new  combination.  The  following 
trusts  were  inquired  into  : Sugar,  milk,  rubber,  cotton-seed  oil, 
envelope,  elevator,  oil-cloth.  Standard  oil,  butchers’,  glass,  and 
furniture.  A trust  is  defined  by  the  Committee  as  a combination 
to  destroy  competition  and  to  restrain  trade  through  the  stock- 
holders therein  combining  with  other  corporations  or  stockholders 
to  form  a joint-stock  company  of  corporations,  in  effect  renounc- 
ing the  powers  of  such  several  corporations,  and  placing  all 
powers  in  the  hands  of  trustees.”  The  general  purposes  and 
effects  are  stated  to  be  to  control  the  supply  of  commodities 
and  necessities  ; to  destroy  competition ; to  regulate  the  quality ; 
and  to  keep  the  cost  to  the  consumer  at  prices  far  beyond  their 
fair  and  equitable  value.”  It  is  unnecessary  to  deal  with  all  these 
trusts,  which  possess  certain  features  in  common.  I will  select 
one  or  two,  particularly  the  great  Standard  Oil  Trust  and  the 
Cotton-seed  Oil  Trust. 

The  Standard  Oil  Trust  is  probably  the  largest  single  business 
monopoly  in  the  world,  the  value  of  all  its  included  interests 
being  estimated,  according  to  the  evidence  submitted,  at 
£29,600,000.  In  the  report  it  is  described  as  ‘‘one  of  the  most 
active  and  possibly  the  most  formidable  monied  power  on  this 
continent.  Its  influence  reaches  into  every  State,  and  is  felt  in 
remote  villages  ; and  the  products  of  its  refineries  seek  a market 
in  almost  every  seaport  on  the  globe.”  The  germ  of  this  huge 
monopoly  was  a small  petroleum  refinery  near  Cleveland,  bought 
by  one  Rockefeller,  a book-keeper  in  a store,  and  a friend  of  his, 
a porter,  with  borrowed  money.  Rockefeller  formed  an  acquain- 
tance with  a rich  whiskey  distillei',  who  advanced  money  and 
put  his  son-in-law  Flagler  into  the  business.  This  person’s 
doctrines  are  thus  described  : He  says  that  there  is  no  damned 
sentiment  about  business  ; that  he  knows  no  friendship  in  trade; 
and  that  if  he  gets  his  business  rival  in  a hole  he  means  to  keep 
him  there.”  Such  a man  is  eminently  fitted  to  be  the  founder 
of  a monopoly : he  is  a hero  of  self-help ; for  he  helps  himself 
to  anything  he  can  lay  his  hands  on.  A second  refinery  was 
established  in  Ohio,  and  a warehouse  opened  in  New  York.  The 
concern  grew,  and  was  incorporated  as  the  Standard  Oil  Com- 
pany. It  is  charged  with  having  secured  special  legislation  by 


INDUSTRIAL. 


87 


judicious  expenditure  in  the  lobbies  of  the  Ohio  and  rcnnsyl- 
vania  Legislatures.  By  entering  into  arrangements  with  the 
trunk  railway  lines,  it  secured  special  rates  for  transit.  New 
refineries  were  established  and  new  oil  lands  in  Pennsylvania 
acquired ; the  capital  was  increased ; and  an  enormous  yearly 
business  was  done.  After  a time  the  company  controlled  every 
avenue  of  transportation  ; managed  all  the  largest  refineries  in 
the  land  ; and  was  able  to  shut  off  every  competitor  from  either 
receiving  supplies  or  shipping  its  products.  New  companies, 
nominally  distinct,  but  all  under  the  control  of  the  same  men, 
were  incorporated  in  New  Jersey,  Ohio,  West  Virginia  and 
other  States.  The  monopoly  elected  one  of  its  chief  stockholders 
into  the  United  States  Senate,  it  is  said,  through  bribery  in  the 
Ohio  Legislature  over  which  body  it  certainly  acquired  strong 
hold.  These  tactics  were  known  as  coal  oil  politics.”  All  the 
dirty  work  was,  of  course,  done  through  agents,  the  directors 
pretending  perfect  innocence.  In  1882  the  Standard  Oil 
Companies  were  consolidated  in  the  Standard  Oil  Trust.^  The 
stockholders  surrendered  their  stock  to  the  trustees,  nine  in 
number,  created  under  the  agreement,  and  received  certificates 
in  the  place  thereof,  the  representatives  of  the  trust  and  the 
stockholders  in  the  refineries  making  a joint  valuation  of  the  re- 
fineries, and  the  certificates  being  issued  to  that  amount.  Thus 
the  separate  concerns  were  merged  in  one  gigantic  business, 
controlled  by  nine  men  (owning  a majority  of  the  stock),  having 
a monopoly  of  nearly  all  the  oil  lands  in  America,  controlling 
legislative  votes,  forming  a solid  alliance  with  the  railway  and 
shipping  interests,  and  determining  to  a gallon  how  much  oil 
shall  be  produced  and  refined,  and  to  a fraction  of  a cent  what 
shall  be  its  price.  In  1887  there  was  a cash  dividend  of  10  per 
cent,  declared,  besides  a stock  dividend  of  20  per  cent,  on  the 
certificates  of  four  years’  aggregation.  In  addition  to  the  enor- 
mous stock  they  hold,  the  trustees  receive  an  annual  salary 
of  £5,000.  What  are  the  economic  results  of  this  combination  ? 
It  has  not  raised  prices,  as  the  trusts  were  charged  by  the  com- 
mittee with  doing.  On  the  contrary  there  has  been  a steady 
decrease  in  price  during  the  decade  1877-1887.  The  consump- 
tion of  oil  has  also  enormously  increased.  The  working  and 
producing  expenses  have  been  greatly  lowered  by  the  dismissal  of 


1 Report  of  Senate  Committee,  p.  419. 


88 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


needless  labor  and  vast  improvements  in  machinery ; the  pipe 
lines  controlled  by  the  trust  having  displaced  5,700  teams  of 
horses  and  11,400  men  in  handling  the  oil.  Thus  of  this  trust 
we  may  say  that  though  the  means  used  to  establish  it  were 
morally  doubtful  or  even  bad,  the  political  results  disastrous,  the 
economic  results  have  been  beneficial,  except  in  the  matter  of 
helping  to  form  an  unemployed  class  through  the  dismissal  of 
needless  labor  consequent  on  the  development  of  machinery. 

The  Cotton-seed  Oil  Trust  was  organized  two  or  three  years 
ago  in  the  State  of  Arkansas.^  Upwards  of  seventy  different 
companies  had  been  competing  with  each  other  and  consequently 
suffering  heavy  losses.  Their  mills  being  comparatively  small 
and  equipped  with  imperfect  machinery,  they  were  glad  to  com- 
bine ; and  those  that  did  not  were  forced  to  close.  The  seventy 
corporations,  the  vast  majority  of  the  members  of  which  had 
agreed  to  the  combination,  surrendered  their  stock  to  a body  of 
trustees  and  received  in  return  $100  certificates.  The  various 
mills  send  a monthly  report  to  the  trust ; and  if  the  officers  in  a 
given  mill  do  not  sell  at  the  terms  imposed,  they  are  dismissed 
by  the  trust.^  The  object  of  the  trust  was  declared  by  a witness 
to  be  to  prevent  bankruptcy,  to  improve  methods,  to  find 
markets,  to  develop  the  enterprise  and  to  make  money.  The 
economic  result  has  been  displacement  of  labor  by  the  machinery 
and  great  economy  in  production.  Incidentally  it  came  out  that 
much  cotton-seed  oil  was  sold  to  the  French  and  Italian  buyers, 
who  mix  it  with  a little  olive  oil  and  export  it  back  to  America 
and  to  England,  where  a confiding  public  purchases  it  as  pure 
Tuscan  olive  oil — an  interesting  illustration  of  international 
trade  morality. 

An  examination  of  the  milk  and  butchers’  trust  ought  to  be 
a revelation  to  those  who  imagine  that  trade  is  ‘^free,”  and 
that  competition  rules.  On  April  29th,  1885,  the  directors  of 
the  Milk  Exchange  met  in  New  York  and  unanimously  resolved : 

“ That  on  the  first  day  of  May  next,  and  until  otherwise  ordered,  the 
market  price  of  milk  produced  from  meadow  hay  and  sound  cereals  be 
2^  cents  per  quart,  and  that  produced  from  brewers^  grains  and  glucose 
and  corn  starch  refuse  be  2 cents  per  quart/’ ^ 

A representative  of  the  Sheep  and  Lamb  Butchers’  Mutual 

1 Ileport  of  Senate  Committee,  p.  233,  et  seq. 

^ Ileport,  p.  244. 

^ Report  of  Senate  Committee,  p.  305. 


INDUSTRIAL. 


89 


Benefit  Association  testified  that  tlie  members  of  that  body 
agreed  that  they  would  only  buy  sheep  and  calves  from  tlie 
Sheep  Brokers’  Association,  a penalty  for  violation  of  this  rule 
being  imposed  at  the  rate  of  15  cents  a head  per  sheep  or  calf. 
The  absolute  despotism,  and  the  system  of  espionage  involved 
ill  such  regulation  is  obvious.  Here  is  a copy  of  a document 
issued  by  this  body  : 

New  York,  January  9,  1888.  Permission  has  been  granted  by  the 
board  of  trustees  of  this  association  to  Simon  Strauss  to  buy  sheep  and 
lambs  in  New  York  markets,  providing  he  buys  no  sheep  and  lambs 
from  outsiders,  under  penalty  of  15  cents  per  head  fine.  Richard  S. 
Tobin,  Secretary.”! 

Occasionally  the  Association  relaxed.  On  November  5th,  1887, 
according  to  its  minutes, 

‘‘The  application  of  John  Healey,  No.  2,  to  be  granted  tlie  privilege 
of  buying  a few  sheep  and  lambs  without  the  15  cents  being  charged 
to  the  brokers,  was  favorably  acted  upon.” 

This  is  not  a record  of  Bagdad  under  the  caliphs,  but  of  the 
Republican  State  of  New  York!  The  threatened  despotism  of 
Socialism  has  been  often  eloquently  dwelt  on  ; but  what  of  the 
actual  despotism  of  to-day  ? 

Now  what  does  this  examination  of  trusts  show?  That, 
granted  private  property  in  the  raw  material  out  of  which 
wealth  is  created  on  a hugh  scale  by  the  new  inventions  which 
science  has  placed  in  our  hands,  the  ultimate  effect  must  be 
the  destruction  of  that  very  freedom  which  the  modern  demo- 
cratic State  posits  as  its  first  principle.  Liberty  to  trade, 
liberty  to  exchange  products,  liberty  to  buy  where  one  pleases, 
liberty  to  transport  one’s  goods  at  the  same  rate  and  on  the 
same  terms  enjoyed  by  others,  subjection  to  no  imperiuih  to 
imperio : these  surely  are  all  fundamental  democratic  principles. 
Yet  by  monopolies  every  one  of  them  is  either  limited  or  de- 
nied. Thus  capitalism  is  apparently  inconsistent  with  democ- 
racy as  hitherto  understood.  The  development  of  capitalism 
and  that  of  democracy  cannot  proceed  without  check  on  parallel 
lines.  Rather  are  they  comparable  to  two  trains  approaching 
each  other  from  different  directions  on  the  same  line.  Collision 
between  the  opposing  forces  seems  inevitable. 

But  both  democracy  and  the  new  capitalist  combinations 

1 Report  of  Senate  Committee,  p.  497. 


90 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


which  threaten  it  are  inevitable  growths  of  an  evolutionary 
process.  We  are  therefore  brought  to  consider  the  question 
whether  the  ring,  syndicate,  or  trust  either  can  or  ought  to  be 
destroyed.  These  combinations  can  be  shown  to  be  the  most 
economical  and  efficient  methods  of  organizing  production  and 
exchange.  They  check  waste,  encourage  machinery,  dismiss 
useless  labor,  facilitate  transport,  steady  prices,  and  raise 
profits  — i.e.,  they  best  effect  the  objects  of  trade  from  the 
capitalist’s  point  of  view.  Now,  the  opponents  of  Socialism 
say  that  without  this  enterprising  capitalist  we  cannot  live. 
He  ‘‘provides  employment,”  they  say.  Well,  if  we  need  him, 
we  must  obviously  pay  his  price.  If  he  has  a natural  monopoly 
of  a function  indispensable  to  social  progress,  society  must  con- 
cede the  terms  he  imposes.  These  terms  are  briefly  large  com- 
binations of  capitalist  ownership.  In  this  way  he  can  best 
organize  business ; if  we  do  not  choose  to  let  him  do  it  in  this 
way,  he  will  not  do  it  for  us  at  all.  From  his  point  of  view 
that  is  a fair  position  to  take  up  ; and  it  places  the  Individualist 
opponent  of  trusts  in  an  awkward  dilemma.  For  he  must 
either  submit  to  trusts  or  give  up  capitalists,  in  which  latter 
case  he  becomes  a Socialist.  The  answer  of  Socialism  to  the 
capitalist  is  that  society  can  do  without  him,  just  as  society 
now  does  without  the  slave-owner  or  feudal  lord,  both  of  whom 
were  formerly  regarded  as  necessary  to  the  well-being  and  even 
the  very  existence  of  society.  In  organizing  its  own  business 
for  itself,  society  can  employ,  at  whatever  rate  of  remuneration 
may  be  needed  to  call  forth  their  powers,  those  capitalists  who 
are  skilled  organizers  and  administrators.  But  those  who  are 
mere  dividend-receivers  will  no  longer  be  permitted  to  levy  a 
contribution  on  labor,  but  must  earn  their  living  by  useful  in- 
dustry as  other  and  better  people  have  to  do. 

It  may  be  said  that  society  is  not  yet  ripe  for  this  trans- 
formation, nor  is  it.  The  forms  of  the  democratic  State  are 
not  yet  perfected,  nor  has  the  economic  evolution  yet  proceeded 
generally  far  enough,  even  in  England,  not  to  speak  of  the  less 
advanced  European  countries.  Much  yet  remains  to  be  done 
through  both  the  education  of  the  intellect  and  the  development 
of  a nobler  public  spirit.  But  on  the  other  hand  we  seem  to  be 
rapidly  approaching  such  an  impasse  that  some  very  large  and 
definite  extension  of  collective  authority  must  be  made.  This 
would  seem  to  involve  on  one  side  general  reduction  of  the 


INDUSTRIAL. 


91 


hours  of  labor,  arid  on  the  other  an  attempt  to  absorb  by  the 
community  a portion  of  those  social  values  which  it  creates. 
In  reference  to  ground  values  it  may  be  anticipated  that  local 
democratic  authorities  will  secure  them  for  the  benefit  of  the 
people  by  any  means  which  may  be  found  expedient. 

As  regards  the  great  combinations  of  capital,  State  action 
may  take  one  of  three  courses.  It  may  prohibit  and  dissolve 
them ; it  may  tax  and  control  them ; or  it  may  absorb  and 
administer  them.  In  either  case  the  Socialist  iheovy  ipso  facto 
admitted , for  each  is  a confession  that  it  is  well  to  exercise  a 
collective  control  over  industrial  capital.  If  the  first  of  these 
courses  is  taken  a distinctly  retrogressive  policy  is  definitely 
adopted,  a policy  of  alarm  at  what  Mr.  Cleveland  called  the 
communism  of  capital,”  a policy  of  reversion  to  the  chaos  of 
“free  competition,”  and  of  cession  of  the  undoubted  benefits 
which  combination  has  secured.  Such  a policy  would  signify 
the  forcible  prevention  of  acquisition  of  property,  the  very  thing 
dearest  to  the  Individualist.  If  the  powers  of  acquisition,  now 
evidently  dependent  on  combination,  are  to  be  restricted,  what 
becomes  of  the  “incentive  to  industry,”  the  “reward  of  absti- 
nence,” and  all  the  ^•est  of  the  worn  out  phrases  which  have  so 
often  done  duty  in  the  place  of  argument  ? If  the  syndicate  or 
the  trust  represents  the  legitimate  outcome  of  capitalism' — if  it 
is  necessary  to  give  order  to  trade  and  to  prevent  the  ruinous 
waste  of  unrestricted  competition,  how  absurd  it  is  for  the  State 
to  say  to  the  capitalist:  “You  shall  carry  your  privileges  of 
acquisition  just  up  to  the  point  where  competition  is  likely  to 
ruin  you ; but  there  you  shall  stop.  Immediately  you  and  your 
friends  combine  to  prevent  waste,  to  regulate  production  and 
distribution,  to  apply  new  methods  of  manufacture,  we  shall 
absolutely  prevent  you  or  restrain  you  by  vexatious  regula- 
tions.” To  which  the  capitalist  may  be  supposed  to  reply : 
“ I cannot  fulfil  my  function  in  society  at  this  serious  risk.  I 
shall  never  know  security  — never  be  even  moderately  sure  of 
reaping  that  reward  to  which  I am  admittedly  entitled.  If 
you  intend  to  fetter  my  action  in  this  way  after  having  pro- 
claimed me  free  to  own  the  raw  material  out  of  which  wealth 
is  made  — if  you  compel  me  to  stop  at  a purely  arbitrary  line,  I 
must  inform  you  that  I am  not  going  to  undertake  business  on 
such  terms.”  Would  not  the  capitalist  say  something  like  this  ; 
and  from  his  point  of  view  would  he  not  be  right? 

If  it  were  instantly  possible  to  do  so,  we  should  take  the 


92 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


capitalist  at  liis  word ; appropriate  the  necessary  instruments  of 
production ; and  make  them  common  property,  the  values  they 
create  accruing  to  the  community.  But  the  human  race 
generally  contrives  to  exhaust  every  device  which  stupidity  can 
suggest  before  the  right  line  of  action  is  ultimately  taken.  I 
think  therefore  that  some  probably  inefficient  method  of  taxation 
and  public  control  over  combinations  will,  as  a matter  of  fact, 
be  adopted.  Such  legislation  will  immensely  restrict  individual 
liberty  in  certain  directions,  will  produce  much  friction,  and  may 
possibly  hamper  production  ; until  by  a long  series  of  experi- 
ments men  shall  discover  what  is  the  most  reasonable  way  of 
acquiring  for  the  community  as  a whole  the  wealth  which  it 
produces.  But  in  any  case  individualism  or  anything  whatever 
in  the  nature  of  laisser  faire  goes  by  the  board. 

And  now,  finally,  what  is  the  immediate  policy  for  rational 
students  of  economics  and  genuine  social  reformers  to  adopt  ? 
Their  motto  must  be.  Nulla  vestigia  retrorsum.  To  all  quack 
proposals  tliey  must  offer  a steady  resistance.  These  proposals 
will  take  the  form  of  attempts  to  bring  back  some  economic 
condition  out  of  which  society  has  emerged.  One  quack  will 
desire  to  revive  the  old  British  yeomanry  ; another  will  talk 
nonsense  about  Fair  Trade  ; ” a third  will  offer  to  the  rustic 
‘Hhree  acres  and  a cow’’ ; while  a fourth  will  see  salvation  in 
getting  rid  of  primogeniture  and  entail  and  planting  ” pros- 
perous laborers  on  tlie  soil  — as  though  the  laborers  grew  there 
like  trees.  Those  who  understand  the  economic  crisis  may  be 
ready  and  eager  to  support  any  reform,  however  small,  which 
is  a genuine  step  forward : but  they  cannot  support  any  effort 
to  call  back  the  past.  They  may  help  to  build  a new  bridge 
across  the  gulf  that  separates  us  from  the  Co-operative  Com- 
monwealth ; but  they  can  never  repair  the  old  broken-down 
structure  which  leads  back  to  Individualism.  Instead,  there- 
fore, of  attempting  to  undo  the  work  which  capitalists  are 
unconsciously  doing  for  the  people,  the  real  reformer  will 
rather  prepare  the  people,  educated  and  organized  as  a true 
industrial  democracy,  to  take  up  the  threads  when  they  fall 
from  the  weak  hands  of  a useless  possessing  class.  By  this 
means  will  the  class  struggle,  with  its  greed,  hate,  and  waste, 
be  ended,  and  the  life  hinted  at  by  Whitman  in  his  ‘‘  Song  of 
the  Exposition  ” be  attained  : 

“ Practical,  peaceful  life,  the  people^s  life,  the  People  themselves, 
Lifted,  illumined,  batlied  in  peace — -elate,  secure  in  peace/^ 


MORAL. 


BY  SYDNEY  OLIVIER. 

The  argument  of  this  fourth  instalment  of  Socialist  criticism 
may  be  provisionally  described  as  an  attempt  to  justify  Socialist 
ideals  by  the  appeals  to  canons  of  moral  judgment  accepted 
generally  and  supported  by  the  results  of  positive  ethical 
science.  The  previous  essays  have  made  it  clear  that  we  are 
dealing  with  Socialism  in  that  restricted  sense  in  which  it  is 
defined  by  Schaeffle,^  as  having  for  its  aim  the  replacement  of 
private  capital  by  collective  capital : that  is,  by  a method  of 
production  which,  upon  the  basis  of  the  collective  property 
of  the  sum  of  all  the  members  of  the  society  in  the  instru- 
ments of  production,  seeks  to  carry  on  a co-operative  organiza- 
tion of  national  work.”  We  are  not  dealing  with  Socialism  as 
a religion,  nor  as  concerned  with  questions  of  sex  or  family  : 
we  treat  it  throughout  as  primarily  a property-form,  as  the 
scheme  of  an  industrial  system  for  the  supply  of  the  material 
requisites  of  human  social  existence. 

If  it  were  admitted  that  the  establishment  of  such  a system 
would  guarantee  just  this  much  — that  abject  poverty  should 
be  done  away,  and  that  every  man  and  woman  should  be 
ensured  the  opportunity  of  obtaining  sufficient  food  and  cov- 
ering in  return  for  a moderate  day’s  work,  we  might  still  be  far 
from  convincing  some  people  that  the  realization  of  that  ideal 
will  be  a good  thing  for  the  world.  There  are  still  a great 
many  who,  though  they  may  not  join  in  the  common  prophecy 
that  the  chief  results  of  such  a system  would  be  an  increase  in 
beer-drinking  and  other  stupid  self-indulgence,^  yet  regard 
starvation  and  misery  as  part  of  the  inevitable  order  of  nature, 

1 “The  Quintessence  of  Socialism.”  Swan,  Sonnenscliein  and  Co. 

2 E,  G.,  see  “ Communism  and  Socialism,”  by  Theodore  D.  Woolsey. 
Sampson,  Low  and  Co.,  London. 


94 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


and  as  necessary  conditions  of  progress,  conducive  to  the  sur- 
vival of  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  the  fittest  ” types  of  life. 
Such  critics  see  danger  to  progress  in  any  attempt  to  enrol 
intelligence  and  adaptiveness  into  conscious  combination 
against  starvation  and  misery,  to  extinguish  by  concerted  effort 
survivals  of  the  accidents  of  primitive  barbarism  against  which 
as  individuals  we  are  always  struggling.  This  aim  of  Socialism, 
accordingly,  does  not  wholly  commend  itself  to  their  moral 
judgment,  to  their  oj)inion  of  what  is  good  in  the  widest  sense, 
although  they  may  willingly  admit  that  the  aim  possesses  a cer- 
tain element  of  shortsighted  good  intention.  Other  persons, 
influenced  by  religious  conceptions  older  than  that  of  progress, 
and  regarding  morality  less  as  determined  by  reference  to  that 
end  than  as  a concern  of  the  individual,  a certain  state  of  the 
soul  of  each  man,  are  inclined  to  view  the  material  evils  which 
Socialists  desire  to  get  rid  of,  as  a necessary  schooling  and 
discipline  without  which  individual  morality  would  decay. 

Against  these  doctrines  Socialists  would  maintain  that  the 
ordering  of  our  national  life,  and  of  the  relations  between 
individuals  and  social  groups  throughout  the  world  in  accord- 
ance with  the  principles  of  Socialism,  is  the  effectual  and  indis- 
pensable process  for  ensuring  to  the  mass  of  mankind  the 
advantages  of  progress  already  effected  and  its  continued  and 
orderly  development,  and  for  the  realisation,  in  individuals 
and  the  State,  of  the  highest  morality  as  yet  imagined  by  us. 

It  may  be  well  at  this  point  to  anticipate  a challenge  to 
define  what  is  meant  by  the  word  “ Morality,”  and  to  briefly 
explain  the  position  which  will  be  assumed,  and  the  method 
which  will  be  followed  throughout  the  succeeding  observations. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  the  subject  of  this  essay  is  “ The 
Moral  Aspect  of  the  Basis  of  Socialism,”  and  not  ^^The 
Socialist  View  ol  the  Basis  of  Morals.”  We  may  therefore 
conscientiously  steer  clear  of  the  whirlpool  of  agelong  con- 
troversy as  to  what  that  basis  is,  merely  noting  as  we  pass  that 
any  metaphysic  of  Ethics  being  necessarily  universal,  there 
is  in  this  sense  no  special  ethic  or  morality  of  Socialism.  By 
such  cautious  procedure  we  sacrifice  indeed  the  fascinating 
ambition  to  exhibit,  by  impressive  dialectic  pageant  of  deduction 
from  first  principles,  the  foundation  of  formal  Socialism  in  the 
Idea  that  informs  the  universe.  But  we  also  avoid  the  cer- 
tainty of  losing,  at  the  very  outset  of  our  attempted  demon- 


MOKAL. 


95 


stration,  the  company  of  all  but  that  minority  who  miglit 
assent  to  our  fundamental  propositions.  A further  sacrifice 
we  shall  make,  in  descending  to  the  unpretentious  methods 
of  empiricism ; for  we  thereby  renounce  the  right  of  appeal  to 
that  theologic  habit  of  mind  common  to  Socialists  with  other 
pious  persons.  Mr.  Henry  George,  educated  under  the 
American  Constitution,  may  share  the  familiarity  of  its  fram- 
ers with  the  intentions  of  the  Creator  and  the  natural  rights  of 
Man.  He  may  prove,  as  did  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  gen- 
erous youth,  that  private  property  in  land  is  incompatible  with 
the  fundamental  right  of  each  individual  to  live  and  to  own 
the  product  of  his  labor.  But  positive  ethical  science  knows 
nothing  of  natural  and  fundamental  rights:  it  knows  nothing 
of  individual  liberty,  nothing  of  equality,  nothing  of  under- 
lying unity.  Yet  here  again  our  loss  has  some  redress  ; for  a 
brief  survey  will  assure  us  that  various  schools  of  moral  phil- 
osophy, differing  in  their  characteristic  first  principles,  are  con- 
verging in  the  justification  of  Socialism;  and  that  the  practical 
judgments  of  contemporary  mankind  as  to  what  sort  of  con- 
duct is  ‘‘moral,’’  and  what  conditions  make  for  the  increase  of 
“ common  morality,”  are  in  practice  largely  coincident.  They 
offer,  at  least,  a body  of  provisional  opinion,  or  prejudice,  to 
which  we  can  appeal  in  presenting  Socialism  for  criticism  of 
its  morality.  The  tribunal  is  by  no  means  infallible : still,  the 
common  contemporary  sense  of  humanity  may  count  for 
something.  But  in  approaching  the  criticism  of  Socialism 
from  the  point  of  view  of  ethics,  we  are  bound  to  go  a little 
deeper  than  this.  While  accepting  the  phenomena  of  current 
opinion  on  morality  as  part  of  our  material,  we  must  follow 
the  explorations  of  ethical  speculation  into  the  causes  and  his- 
tory of  the  development  of  those  opinions.  By  examining  the 
genesis  of  convictions  that  this  or  that  kind  of  action  is  good 
or  bad,  moral  or  immoral,  we  shall  be  helped  to  form  a judg- 
ment as  to  which  appears  likely  to  persist  and  be  strengthened, 
and  which  to  be  modified,  weakened,  or  forgotten.  If  the 
claim  of  Socialism  rests  on  judgments  of  the  latter  class,  we 
may  know  that  it  is  a moribund  bantling  ; if  they  preponderate 
among  the  obstacles  to  its  credit,  we  may  prophesy  encourag- 
ingly of  it ; if  it  is  supported  by  those  judgments  whose 
persistence  seems  essential  to  the  survival  of  the  individual 
and  of  society,  we  may  be  assured  of  its  realisation  in  the 
future. 


96 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


Socialism  appears  as  the  offspring  of  Individualism,  as  the 
outcome  of  individualist  struggle,  and  as  the  necessary  condi- 
tion for  the  approach  to  the  individualist  ideal.  The  oppo- 
sition commonly  assumed  in  contrasting  the  two  is  an  accident 
of  the  now  habitual  confusion  between  personality  and  person- 
alty, between  a man’s  life  and  the  abundance  of  things  that  he 
has.  Socialism  is  merely  Individualism  rationalized,  organized, 
clothed,  and  in  its  right  mind.  Socialism  is  taking  form  in 
advanced  societies  and  the  social  revolution  must  be  brought 
to  its  formal  accomplishment  through  the  conscious  action  of 
innumerable  individuals  seeking  an  avenue  to  rational  and 
pleasant  existence  for  themselves  and  for  those  whose  happiness 
and  freedom  they  desire  as  they  do  their  own.  All  conscious 
action,  all  conscious  modification  of  conditions,  is  inspired  by 
the  desire  of  such  personal  relief,  satisfaction,  or  expression, 
by  the  attempt  to  escape  from  some  physical  or  intellectual 
distress.  Subjective  volition,  passion  it  is,”  says  Hegel, 
that  sets  men  in  activity : men  will  not  interest  themselves 
for  anything  unless  they  find  their  individuality  gratified  by  its 
attainment.”  This  common  end,  this  desire  of  personal  relief 
or  satisfaction,  we  see  throughout  recorded  or  indicated  history 
impelling  every  living  creature  on  the  earth  ; merging  itself, 
as  we  trace  it  backwards,  in  the  mere  apparent  will  to  live  of 
organisms  not  recognized  as  conscious,  and  in  the  indestructible 
energy  of  the  inorganic.  The  field  of  activity  thus  conceived 
presents  a panorama  of  somewhat  large  extent;  but  a very 
smairdivision  of  it  is  all  that  we  shall  have  to  do  with.  For 
morality,  whatever  be  its  nature  and  basis,  certainly  does  not 
become  recognizable  to  us,  we  cannot  attribute  the  quality  of 
rightness  or  wrongness,  until  the  formation  of  society  has  begun, 
until  individuals  are  in  conscious  relation  with  individuals  other 
than  themselves. 

If  we  could  imagine  an  individual  absolutely  isolated,  and 
having  no  relation  at  all  with  other  sentient  beings,  we  could 
not  say  that  it  was  moral  or  immoral  for  him  to  eat,  drink, 
sleep,  breathe,  wash  himself,  take  exercise,  cough,  sneeze,  and 
the  like,  just  as  much  or  as  little,  wlien  or  where  he  felt  inclined, 
llis  conduct  in  these  activities  must  appear  to  us  absolutely 
indifferent.  We  may  have  some  vague  reflected  suppositions 
as  to  what  is  necessary  for  the  dignity  and  development  of  the 
Plan’s  self,”  as  we  might  call  it ; but  this  is  a matter  about 


MORAL. 


97 


which  the  man  may  pretend  to  know  as  much  as  we  do  ; and 
we  have  really  no  valid  ground  for  prejudice  against  the  habits 
of  the  recluse  Indian  fakir,  who  has,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
siderable claims  to  be  regarded  as  a peculiarly  holy  individual. 
l)ut  of  every  man  living  in  society  we  can  say,  that  if  he  sbtrves 
himself  into  inefficiency  ; if  he  gorges  or  fuddles  himself  ; if  he 
sleeps  unseasonably  ; if  he  abstains  from  the  fresh  air,  the 
cleanliness,  and  the  exercise,  necessary  to  keep  his  body  healthy 
and  his  presence  pleasant ; if  he  destroys  his  powers  by  over- 
work ; then  he  is  acting  wrongly,  immorally,  unreasonably,  in 
extreme  cases  insanely.  (Insanity  is  only  the  name  we  give  to 
abnormal  deviation  from  what  are  accepted  as  reasonable  and 
intelligible  desires  and  behavior.)  And  if  this  is  the  case  with 
actions  of  the  kind  loosely  described  as  self-regarding,  with  those 
which  most  nearly  concern  the  agent’s  own  person,  much  more 
is  it  so  with  the  kind  of  actions  which  necessarily  and  invariably 
affect  other  persons.  Those  relations  of  the  individual  with  his 
fellows  in  which  subjective  morality  is  chiefly  recognized,  have 
no  existence  at  all  apart  from  society.  Subjective  morality, 
then,  being  only  distinguishable  in  the  State,  the  extent  of  our 
panorama  is  already  much  diminished ; for  in  every  gentile  or 
national  society,  and  to  some  degree  in  the  World-State  of  to- 
day, we  find  the  individualist  activity,  the  desire  and  passion  of 
the  human  unit,  very  largely  exercising  itself  in  accordance  with 
what  we  call  a moral  habit.  Innumerable  types  of  society  have 
been  formed  in  the  process  of  life-development.  In  the  oldest 
of  these  we  recognize  the  elements  of  a conventional  morality, 
similar  to  that  by  which  our  own  human  society  is  held  to- 
gether. We  consider  the  ways  of  the  ant;  and  we  see  that 
they  are  wise. 

We  find  that  in  all  societies  those  actions  and  habits  are 
approved  as  moral  which  tend  to  preserve  the  existence  of 
society  and  the  cohesion  and  convenience  of  its  members ; and 
that  those  which  are  or  seem  to  be  fraught  with  contrary 
tendencies  are  considered  immoral.  It  is  plain  that  no  society 
in  which  these  judgments  were  habitually  reyersed  could  con- 
tinue in  existence  ; and  this  fact  will  account  for  much  of  that 
general  inherited  disposition  to  actions  socially  beneficial,  and 
inherited  repugnance  to  those  presumably  the  reverse,  whicli 
form  so  large  a part  of  what  we  speak  of  as  conscience.  So 
deep  in  grain  have  many  of  these  common  judgments  come  to 


98 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


be  that  their  influence  has  passed  out  of  consciousness  ; and 
they  are  obeyed  automatically  or  instinctively  without  any 
reflexion  as  to  their  moral  aspect  arising  in  the  agent’s  mind. 
It  is,  for  example,  so  necessary  for  the  existence  of  society  that 
the  citizen  should  abstain  from  slaughtering  at  large,  such  self- 
restraint  is  so  evidently  reasonable,  its  non-observance  so  con- 
trary to  common  sense,  that  when  we  find  a murder  done  for 
mere  desire  of  bloodshed  and  under  the  impulse  of  no  other 
passion  whatsoever,  we  do  not  think  of  the  murderer  as  im- 
moral, but  rather  as  insane,  judging  the  man  who  would  destroy 
the  life  of  society  as  coroners’  juries  by  their  habitual  verdict 
upon  suicides  pronounce  of  the  man  who  destroys  his  own. 

Most  of  the  habits  of  activity  and  avoidance,  necessary  for 
the  mere  physical  existence  of  the  individual  as  moral  actions 
and  abstentions  are  necessary  for  the  existence  of  society,  have 
long  ago  become  automatic,  and  are  sunk,  so  far  as  common 
opinion  is  concerned,  permanently  out  of  the  purview  of  moral 
criticism.  All  the  involuntary  functions  of  the  human  body 
which  conduce  to  its  nutrition  and  maintenance  in  health  have 
been  gradually  acquired  in  the  course  of  ages,  as  the  conditions 
necessary  for  the  expression  of  the  mere  animal  will  to  live  the 
largest  and  freest  life  permitted  by  the  physical  environment. 
And  as  the  bodily  form  and  functions  of  the  typical  individual 
of  each  species  have  accrued  and  become  established  as  the 
indispensable  mechanic  of  the  mere  determination  to  exist,  so 
the  form  and  institution  of  society,  and  the  relations  and  mutual 
behavior  of  its  individuals,  have  been  adjusted  and  established 
as  the  equally  indispensable  conditions  for  the  expression  of 
the  determination  to  exist  more  fully,  for  the  enlargement  of 
freedom  and  opportunity  for  the  gratification  of  those  passions 
and  aspirations,  the  display  of  those  energies  and  activities 
whicli  characterize  the  more  complex  forms  of  life  as  it  passes 
from  the  inororanic  and  vcfjetative  to  the  conscious  and  self- 
conscious  stages  of  its  evolution. 

The  primitive  forms  of  liuman  society  we  must  infer  to  have 
grown  up  and  survived  simply  because  they  increased  the 
efficiency  of  man  as  a feeding  and  a fighting  animal,  just  as  did 
those  of  the  wolf,  the  beaver,  and  the  ant.  Society  has  now 
grown  to  be  for  man  the  indispensable  guarantee  not  only  of 
nutrition  and  protection,  but  of  the  opportunity  to  imagine  and 
attain  a thousand  varieties  of  more  refined  satisfaction.  So  far 


MOKAL. 


99 


as  man  has  attained  freedom  to  do  and  be  as  he  desires,  he  has 
attained  it  only  through  the  evolution  of  society.  When  a so- 
ciety perishes,  as  societies  organically  weak  among  stronger 
competitors  have  done  and  will  do,  the  individual  perishes  with 
it,  or  is  forced  backwards  with  impaired  freedom  until  a fresh 
social  integration  renews  and  extends  his  powers  of  self-develop- 
ment. Societies,  as  has  been  pointed  out  by  Sidney  Webb  on 
page  51,  must  safeguard  their  existence  to-day  for  the  very  same 
reasons  for  which  society  has  formed  itself.  It  has  grown  up 
for  the  convenience  of  individuals,  for  their  defence  and  relief 
under  the  pressure  of  all  that  was  not  themselves  — of  Nature, 
as  we  call  it — -beasts,  and  competing  men,  to  give  a little 
breathing  space,  a little  elbow  room,  amid  the  storm  and  stress 
of  primaeval  existence;  and  from  that  beginning  it  has  been 
unfolded  and  elaborated,  each  step  of  progress  effected  for  the 
convenience  of  active  individuals,  until  the  individual  of  to-day 
is  born  as  a leaf  upon  a mighty  tree,  or  a coral  insect  in  a 
sponge,  himself  to  live  his  individual  life,  and  in  living  it  to 
modify  the  social  organism  in  which  he  has  his  being. 

Reviewing  the  development  in  society  of  the  conditions  for 
the  satisfaction  of  the  individual  will  to  live,  and  to  live  in  the 
best  way  conceivable,  we  see  in  the  progress  of  moral  ideas  the 
progress  of  discovery  of  the  most  reasonable  manner  of  ordering 
the  life  of  the  individual  and  the  form  of  social  institutions 
under  the  contemporary  environment.  It  has  already  been 
pointed  out  that  some  kinds  of  anti-social  action  are  so  un- 
reasonable, so  obviously  prejudicial  to  the  attainment  of  the 
common  end  of  conscious  individuals,  that  we  brand  them  un- 
hesitatingly as  insane.  Instances  suggested  were  extreme  per- 
sonal uncleanliness  or  dissipation,  and  extreme  cruelty  or  blood- 
thirstiness. The  reason  why  other  anti-social  or  indirectly 
suicidal  kinds  of  action  are  not  yet  classed  as  madness,  tliougli 
there  is  a steady  tendency  towards  so  treating  them,  is  plainly 
that  some  activities  of  the  individual,  though  hurtful  to  other 
citizens  just  as  the  activity  of  a pack  of  wolves  or  a predatory 
tribe  is  hurtful  to  adjacent  societies,  are  commonly  aimed  at 
gratifying  impulses  and  passions  which  are  not  yet  grown  so 
rare  as  blood-thirst,  are  not  yet  recognized  as  irrational  or 
valueless,  or  even  are  acknowledged  to  be  in  their  proper  scope 
harmless,  desirable,  or  necessary. 

It  is  an  established  social  convention  (in  England)  that  it  is 


100 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


immoral  to  steal  or  to  defraud.  Only  in  very  extreme  cases  do 
we  account  these  pursuits  as  evidences  of  mania  ; for  though  in- 
justice and  dishonesty  are  incompatible  with  the  health  of  society, 
and  thus  actually  unreasonable  and  indirectly  suicidal,  the 
desires  which  prompt  men  to  them  are  only  at  worst  exaggera- 
tions of  the  desire  for  wealth  or  subsistence,  which  everyone  re- 
cognizes as  a necessary  condition  of  the  mere  continuance  of  life. 
Nay,  where  the  alternative  is  death  for  lack  of  subsistence,  many 
consider  that  neither  are  immoral.  At  the  other  extreme,  when 
the  instinct  prompts  aggression  in  defiance  of  the  conscious 
reason  and  without  assignable  purpose  of  gain,  when  Jean  Yal- 
jean  robs  the  little  Savoyard,  or  a noble  earl  pockets  the  sugar- 
tongs,  we  speak  of  mental  aberration  or  of  kleptomania. 

The  case  of  self-defence  is  similar.  Quarrelsomeness  and 
violence  are  destructive  of  social  existence,  or  at  best  impede  its 
higher  elaboration.  But  readiness  of  resentment  and  quickness 
of  fist  were  forages  and  ages  necessities  for  individual  survival ; 
and  for  ages  and  ages  more  their  kindred  social  qualities  or  spirit 
and  valor  were  necessary  for  social  survival,  and  accordingly 
ranked  as  virtues.  The  instruction  to  turn  the  other  cheek  to 
the  smiter  is  even  now,  perhaps,  an  exaggeration  of  the  precept 
commendable  to  Socialists  when  charged  by  the  London  police : 
to  suffer  one’s  self  to  be  killed  without  reason  is  clearly  and  unmis- 
takably immoral.  As  the  western  world  advances  out  of  war- 
fare into  industry,  more  and  more  of  what  was  once  military 
virtue  becomes  immorality  in  the  individual ; until  an  habitual 
ferocity  which  might  once  have  qualified  its  subject  for  chieftain- 
ship may  nowadays  consign  him  to  penal  servitude  or  Bedlam. 

The  foregoing  illustrations  have  been  treated,  for  the  present 
purpose,  with  reference  only  to  the  effect  of  the  behavior  of  the 
individual  upon  society.  It  is  indeed  certain  that  anti-social 
action  does  not,  as  a rule,  effect  permanent  satisfaction  for  the 
individual  (isolated  instances,  of  the  type  of  Shelley’s  Count 
Cenci,  notwithstanding)  ; but,  independently  of  this,  the  actions 
and  propensities  of  the  individual  have  always,  it  appears,  been 
judged  by  his  fellows  moral  or  immoral  chiefly  according  to  their 
supposed  effects  upon  society.  The  object  of  every  living  crea- 
ture being  to  do  as  he  pleases,  if  what  he  pleases  to  do  incom- 
modes other  people  they  will  take  measures  to  restrain  him  from 
doing  it.  This  they  strive  to  effect  by  means  of  laws  and  con- 
ventional codes  of  morality,  the  main  difference  between  the  two 


MORAL. 


101 


being  that  the  code  of  law  is  enforced  by  the  infliction  of  direct 
personal  punishment  by  the  officers  of  the  State.  This  accep- 
tance of  codes  of  laws  and  conventions  of  morality  leads  to  a 
secondary  series  of  judgments  as  to  right  and  wrong ; for  it 
comes  to  be  accounted  immoral  to  break  the  law  whether  the 
law  itself  be  good  or  not,  and  reprehensible  to  depart  from  con- 
vention whether  convention  be  any*  longer  reasonable  or  not. 
This  secondary  morality  is  as  it  were  the  bud-sheath  of  the  indi- 
vidual, which  support  he  cannot  dispense  with  until  he  has  come 
to  his  full  powers,  but  which  he  must  dispense  with  if  he  is  to 
fully  realise  his  own  freedom.  Customary  morality  prevents 
him  during  the  process  of  his  education  from  pursuing  his  own 
satisfaction  across  the  corns  of  his  fellow  creatures.  In  the 
process  of  education  he  learns  that  for  the  unit  in  society  the 
word  self  includes  more  than  the  individual : the  infant  very  soon 
finds  out  that  what  disagrees  with  his  mother  disagrees  with  him  ; 
the  child,  that  the  failure  of  his  father’s  income  means  misery 
and  hunger  to  the  family.  To  say  nothing  of  the  facts  of  sym- 
pathy, every  man  born  into  an  advanced  society  is  early  made 
aware  that  the  satisfaction  of  his  mere  material  needs  depends 
upon  the  activities  of  that  society  around  him  quite  as  much  as 
upon  his  own.  All  through  the  growth  of  nations  and  societies 
the  complexity  of  this  interdependence  of  individuals  has  in- 
creased, the  areas  of  social  consciousness  have  been  extended  and 
unified,  from  the  solitary  cave-dweller  to  the  family  or  horde, 
from  the  tribe  to  the  nation,  and  from  the  nation,  by  commerce, 
to  the  world,  till  the  fortunes  of  each  people  have  power  over  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  workers  in  every  other,  and  the  arts,  the 
learning,  and  the  literature  of  a hundred  painful  civilizations  are 
available  for  us  to-day,  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  their 
glory  displayed  in  a moment  of  time. 

But  not  by  bread  alone  does  mankind  live.  Very  early  in  the 
course  of  human  evolution  must  the  type  of  individual  to  whom 
all  society  was  repugnant  have  been  eliminated  and  suppressed 
by  natural  selection.  The  social  instinct,  the  disposition  to  find 
comfort  in  comradeship  independently  of  its  material  advantages, 
is  of  such  evident  antiquity  in  Man  that  we  are  justified  in 
speaking  of  it  as  one  of  his  fundamental  and  elementary  charac- 
teristics. It  is  easy  enough  to  suggest  theories  of  the  origin  of 
this  adhesiveness,  this  affection,  this  sympathy,  in  the  conditions 
of  racial  survival : the  important  fact  for  us  is  its  remarkable 


102 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


susceptibility  of  cultivation  and  extension.  The  individual  in 
society  does  that  which  is  pleasant  to  his  friends,  and  abstains 
from  doing  that  which  is  unpleasant,  not  because  he  likes  to  be 
thought  a good  fellow,  or  expects  benefits  in  return,  but  simply 
because  it  gives  him  immediate  pleasure  so  to  act.  He  is  sen- 
sitive to  that  which  hurts  them,  not  because  he  fears  that  his 
own  defences  are  weakened  by  their  injury,  but  because  they 
have  actually  become  part  of  himself  by  the  extension  of  his 
consciousness  over  them.  This  social  instinct,  this  disposition 
to  benevolent  sympathy,  appears  almost  as  inextinguishable  as 
the  personal  desire  of  life  : in  innumerable  instances  it  has 
proved  far  stronger. 

The  recognition  by  each  individual  of  his  dependence  on 
society  or  sensitiveness  to  his  own  interest,  and  his  affection 
towards  society  or  sensitiveness  to  its  interest : these  two  faces 
of  the  same  fact  represent  an  intricate  tissue  of  social  conscious- 
ness extremely  sensitive  to  all  kinds  of  anti-social,  or  immoral, 
action.  The  moral  education  of  the  individual  appears  formally 
as  the  process  of  learning,  by  sheer  extension  of  knowledge  and 
experience,  and  nothing  else,  how  he  may  harmonise  and  follow 
out  his  own  desires  in  these  two  aspects  and  their  combinations. 
He  has  to  learn  how  to  provide  for  the  needs  of  his  bodily  life 
in  a manner  that  will  not  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  others  to 
do  the  same.  Laws  and  conventions  of  morality  guide  him  at 
first  in  this  respect ; but  the  man  cannot  be  said  to  be  free  until 
he  acts  morally  because,  foreseeing  that  on  the  satisfaction  of 
these  primary  needs  new  desires  will  emerge  whose  satisfaction 
will  give  him  a more  exquisite  contentment,  he  perceives  that  it 
is  reasonable  so  to  act.  The  existence  and  stability  of  society 
are  the  indispensable  guarantee  for  the  general  satisfaction  of 
the  primary  desires  of  individuals,  therefore  it  is  unreasonable  to 
weaken  society  by  immoral  action  ; but  much  more  are  the  ex- 
istence and  health  of  society  indispensable  conditions  for  the 
common  birth  and  satisfaction  of  the  secondary  desires,  the 
desires  which  have  created  all  that  is  most  valuable  in  civilisa- 
tion and  which  find  their  satisfaction  in  art,  in  culture,  in  human 
intercourse,  in  love.  The  moral  education  of  the  individual  is 
the  lesson,  not  that  desire  is  evil,  and  that  he  can  only  attain  his 
freedom  by  ceasing  to  desire,  for  this  is  death,  or  desertion,  and 
the  army  of  the  living  presses  on  to  fuller  life ; but  that  the 
wider,  fuller  satisfaction  is  built  upon  the  simpler,  and  common 


MORAL. 


103 


morality  a condition  of  its  possibility ; that  there  are  certain 
manners  and  methods  in  which,  if  he  goes  about  to  save  his  life, 
he  most  infallibly  will  lose  it ; and  that  love,  the  social  instinct, 
and  science,  which  is  ordered  knowledge,  are  his  only  reliable 
tutors  ill  practical  morality. 

But  mail  ill  society  not  only  lives  his  individual  life : he  also 
modihes  the  form  of  social  institutions  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated by  reason  — in  such  a manner,  that  is,  as  it  seems  to  his 
understanding  will  render  them  more  efficient  for  securing  free- 
dom for  that  life  of  his.  And  just  as  certain  forms  of  indi- 
vidual activity,  in  their  passage  into  and  through  the  field  of 
positive  criticism,  appear  first' as  indifferent,  because  they  seem 
to  concern  the  individual  only,  then  as  moral  or  immoral,  be- 
cause recognized  as  affecting  society,  later  as  simply  rational 
or  insane,  morality  having  here  formally  attained  its  identifica- 
tion with  reason  and  immorality  with  folly,  and  at  last  become 
habitual,  instinctive,  and  unconscious ; so  institutions,  origi- 
nating in  modes  apparently  accidental,  come  to  be  recognized 
as  useful  and  valuable  additions  to  the  machinery  of  existence, 
are  buttressed  with  all  the  authority  and  sanction  of  religion, 
and  finally  pass  into  unquestioned  acceptance  by  the  common- 
sense  of  men.  In  time  some  fundamental  change  in  the  con- 
ditions of  the  life  of  individuals  is  introduced  by  causes 
similarly  unforeseen : the  form  of  the  old  institution  ceases  to 
subserve  the  common  end : it  begins  to  cramp  the  freedom  of 
the  majority,  who  no  longer  require  its  support.  Meanwhile  it 
has  established  a minority,  ostensibly  controlling  it  for  the  com- 
mon weal,  in  a position  to  administer  it  in  the  sole  interest  of 
their  class.  These,  as  their  existence  appears  dependent  on 
their  so  administering  it,  cannot  be  untaught  the  habit  except 
by  such  modification  of  the  institution  as  will  render  it  again 
impossible  for  any  class  to  have  a special  interest  in  its  contem- 
porary form. 

This  process  is  so  familiar  in  history  that  it  would  be  a waste 
of  time  here  to  illustrate  it  by  tracing  it  in  the  growth  of  mon- 
archies, aristocracies,  priesthoods,  chattel  slavery,  feudal  bon- 
dage, representative  government,  or  others  of  its  innumerable 
manifestations.  The  institution  of  private  property  in  certain 
things  is  in  many  respects  so  reasonable  and  convenient  for  the 
majority  of  mankind,  and  was  so  conspicuously  advantageous 
for  those  stronger  individuals  under  whose  leadership  the 


104 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


begiiiiiiiigs  of  tribal  civilisations  were  developed,  that  very 
early  in  their  history  it  received  the  sanction  of  moral  conven- 
tion, religion,  and  law.  It  was  obviously  necessary  for  the 
establishment  of  industrial  society,  that  each  man  should  own 
the  product  of  his  labor  and  the  tools  necessary  for  him  to 
labor  effectually.  But  the  Industrial  Revolution  described 
in  the  third  paper  of  this  series  has  entirely  changed  the  con- 
ditions under  which  men  produce  wealth,  and  the  character 
of  the  tools  with  which  they  work,  while  the  sanctions  of  law 
and  conventional  morality  still  cling  to  all  that  has  been 
imported  under  the  old  definition  of  property.  If  the  idea  so 
constantly  appealed  to  in  justification  of  property  law  is  to  be 
realised ; if  the  fruits  of  each  man’s  labor  ^ are  to  be  guaran- 
teed to  him  and  he  is  to  own  the  instruments  with  which  he 
works  ; if  the  laws  of  property  are  not  to  establish  a para- 
sitic class  taking  tribute  from  the  labor  of  others  in  the  forms 
of  Rent  and  Interest,  then  we  must  modify  our  administration 
of  property.  We  must  admit  that  as  the  agricultural  laborer 
cannot  individually  own  the  fai:m  he  works  on  and  its  stock, 
as  the  factory  hand  cannot  individually  own  the  mill  land  and 
industrial  capital  are  things  in  which  private  property  is  impos- 
sible, except  on  condition  of  a small  minority  owning  all  such 
property  and  the  great  majority  none  at  all. 

Socialists  contend  that  this  system  of  private  property  in 
land  and  capital  is  actively  destructive  of  the  conditions  in 
which  alone  the  common  morality  necessary  for  happy  social 
life  is  possible.  Without  any  demand  upon  the  faith  of  those 
persons  who  deny  the  capacity  of  average  human  nature  for 
the  temperance  and  kindliness  indispensable  for  the  success  of 
a true  co-operative  commonwealth,  they  assert  that  this  mod- 
ern development  of  the  property  system  (a  development  of  the 
last  few  generations  only,  and  unprecedented  in  the  history  of 
the  world),  is  more  and  more  forcing  the  individual  into  anti- 
cocial  disposition  and  action,  and  thereby  destroying  the  prom- 
ise of  free  and  full  existence,  which  only  the  health  and 
progressive  development  of  the  social  organism  can  give  him. 
It  has  become  plainly  reasonable  that  when  this  is  the  effect  of 
our  property  system,  we  should  modify  our  institutions  in  the 

1 To  the  intelligent  Socialist  this  phrase  has,  of  course,  no  meaning. 
But  against  the  non-Socialist  who  employs  it,  it  may  be  legitimately 
used,  ad  captandum. 


MORAL. 


105 


directions  which  will  give  us  freedom,  just  as  we  modified  the 
institutions  which  subjected  us  to  a feudal  aristocracy,  and 
abolished  for  ever  the  laws  which  enabled  one  man  to  hold 
another  as  his  chattel  slave. 

There  is  on  record  a Greek  proverb,  that  so  soon  as  a man 
has  ensured  a livelihood,  then  he  should  begin  to  practise 
virtue.  We  all  protest  that  he  will  do  well  to  practise  virtue 
under  any  circumstances  ; but  we  admit  on  reflection  that  our 
judgment  as  to  what  is  virtuous  action,  depends  upon  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  action  is  to  be  taken.  Whether  we 
approve  the  killing  of  one  man  by  another,  depends  entirely 
on  the  circumstances  of  the  case;  and  there  is  scarcely  one 
of  the  acts  which  our  law^s  regard  as  criminal,  which  could 
not,  under  imaginable  circumstances,  be  justified.  Our  laws, 
and  our  conventional  opinions,  as  to  what  conduct  is  moral  or 
immoral,  are  adapted  to  the  ordinary  circumstances  of  the 
average  man  in  society,  society  being  in  them  presumed  to  be 
homogeneous,  not  to  contain  in  itself  essential  distinctions 
between  classes,  or  great  contrasts  between  the  conditions  of 
individuals. 

But  that  element  in  our  private  property  system  w^hich  is 
at  present  the  main  object  of  the  Socialist  attack,  the  indi- 
vidual ownership  of  the  instruments  of  production,  land  and 
capital,  in  an  age  when  the  use  of  those  instruments  has 
become  co-operative,  results,  and  must  inevitably  result,  as  the 
foregoing  dissertations  have  sought  to  prove,  in  the  division 
of  society  into  two  classes,  whose  very  livelihood  is  ensured  to 
them  by  methods  essentially  different.  The  livelihood  of  the 
typical  proletarian  is  earned  by  the  exercise  of  his  faculties 
for  useful  activity  : the  livelihood  of  the  typical  capitalist,  or 
owner  of  property,  is  obtained,  without  any  contributian  of 
his  or  her  activity,  in  the  form  of  a pension  called  rent,  inter- 
est, or  dividend,  guaranteed  by  law  out  of  the  wealth  produced 
from  day  to  day  by  the  activities  of  the  proletariat. 

Observe  the  effect  of  this  distinction  in  moral  phenomena. 
Most  of  our  common  opmions  as  to  social  morality,  are 
adapted  to  a society  in  which  every  citizen  is  contributing 
active  service.  The  most  ancient  and  universal  judgments  of 
mankind  as  to  the  virtues  of  industry,  of  honesty,  of  loyalty 
and  forbearance  between  man  and  man,  of  temperance, 
fortitude  and  just  dealing,  point  to  the  elementary  conditions 


106 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


necessary  for  the  survival  and  strengthening  of  societies  of 
equal  and  free  individuals  dependent  for  their  subsistence  upon 
the  exercise  of  each  one’s  abilities,  and  upon  his  fitness  for 
co-operation  with  his  fellows.  But  where  a class  or  society 
exists,  not  dependent  upon  its  own  industry,  but  feeding  like  a 
parasite  upon  another  society  or  class  ; when  the  individuals  of 
such  a parasitic  society  in  no  way  depend  for  their  livelihood 
or  their  freedom  upon  their  fitness  for  co-operation  one  with 
another  upon  themselves,  or  upon  any  personal  relation  with 
the  class  that  feeds  them ; then  the  observation  of  the  moral 
conventions  of  industrial  and  co-operative  societies  is  in  many 
respects  quite  unnecessary  for  the  continuance  of  the  life  of 
the  parasitic  society,  or  for  the  pleasant  existence  of  the 
individuals  composing  it.  All  that  is  necessary  is  that 
the  established  laws  and  conventions  should  continue  to  be 
observed  by  the  industrial  class  ( “ it  is  required  in  stewards 
that  a man  be  found  faithful”);  and  as  the  existence  of  the 
propertied  class  in  modern  societies,  does  depend  ultimately 
upon  the  observance  by  the  bulk  of  the  people  of  this  conven- 
tional morality,  the  propertied  class  professes  publicly  to  ven- 
erate and  observe  conventions,  which,  in  its  private  practice,  it 
has  long  admitted  to  be  obsolete.  This  complication  is  a 
perennial  source  of  cant.  To  this  we  owe  the  spectacle  of 
Sir  William  Harcourt  advocating  total  abstinence,  of  Mr. 
Arthur  Balfour  commending  Christianity ; to  this  the  con- 
tinual inculcation  of  industry  and  thrift  by  idle  and  extrava- 
gant people,  with  many  another  edifying  variation  on  the 
theme  of  Satan’s  reproval  of  sin.  Temperance,  Christian 
morality,  industry,  and  economy  are  of  considerable  social 
utility  ; but  for  the  members  of  a propertied  class  they  are 
not  necessitated  by  the  conditions  of  its  existence,  and  conse- 
quently in  such  classes  are  neither  observed  nor  commonly 
made  the  subject  of  moral  criticism. 

Consider  the  case  of  industry  alone  — of  the  moral  habit  of 
earning  one’s  subsistence  by  useful  activity.  Assuming  suste- 
nance to  be  guaranteed,  there  is  no  obvious  and  pressing  social 
necessity  for  such  exertion.  No  doubt  the  paradise  of  the 
maid-of-all-work  — where  she  means  to  do  nothing  for  ever  and 
ever  — is  the  paradise  of  an  undeveloped  intelligence.  A society 
relieved  of  the  function  of  providing  its  own  material  sustenance 
need  not  relai)se  into  general  torpor,  though  the  result  is  very 


MOKAL. 


107 


commonly  that  an  individual  so  circumstanced  relapses  into 
uselessness.  It  will  be  vain  to  preach  to  such  an  individual 
that  he  will  find  his  fullest  satisfaction  in  honest  toil : he  will 
simply  laugh  in  your  face,  and  go  out  partridge  shooting,  hunt- 
ing, or  yachting,  or  to  Monte  Carlo  or  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
finding  in  such  an  exercise  of  his  capacities  the  keenest  imagin- 
able enjoyment  for  months  in  succession.  He  may  feel  no  in- 
clination at  all  to  work  for  the  benefit  of  the  people  whose 
work  is  supporting  him  : all  that  he,  like  the  rest  of  us,  requires 
is  to  find  some  means  of  passing  his  time  in  an  agreeable  or 
exciting  manner.  Accordingly,  in  that  section  of  our  nation 
which  speaks  of  itself  as  ‘‘  society,”  being  indeed  a society 
separated  by  economic  parasitism  from  the  common  mass,  we 
find  that  the  characteristic  activity  is  the  provision  of  agree- 
able and  exciting  methods  of  passing  time.  This  being  the 
end  of  fashionable  society,  its  code  of  morality  is  naturally 
quite  different  from  the  code  suitable  for  industrial  societies. 
Truthfulness  is  preached  in  these  as  a cardinal  virtue.  Lying 
is  of  course  common  enough  in  all  classes,  and  is  generally  im- 
moral ; but  in  the  fashionable  world  it  is  not  only  a perfectly 
legitimate  means  of  avoiding  an  undesired  visitor,  or  almost  any 
other  unpleasant  experience : it  is  a positive  necessity  of  con- 
ventional politeness  and  good  manners.  It  is  really  harmless 
here,  almost  a virtue.  To  return  to  the  virtue  of  industry  : though^ 
the  conventional  morality  of  the  people,  necessary  for  the  life 
of  the  nation,  permeates  with  its  vibrations  this  parasitic  society 
which  it  enfolds ; and  though  the  unfailing  contentment  which 
a really  intelligent  man  finds  in  social  activity  keeps  a good 
many  of  the  propertied  class  usefully  occupied,  the  actual  public 
opinion  of  that  class  is  absolutely  in  accordance  with  the  con- 
ditions of  their  life.  The  clerk  in  a Government  office  is  con- 
gratulated by  middle-class  ac(][uaintances  on  his  luck  in  obtain- 
ing a berth  where  he  need  do  no  more  work  than  he  chooses ; 
and  it  is  habitually  assumed  that  he  will  choose,  like  the  Trafal- 
gar Square  fountains,  to  play  from  ten  to  four,  with  an  interval 
for  lunch.  That  may  or  may  not  be  an  adequate  account  of 
his  activities  : the  significant  thing  is  that  such  an  assumption 
should  not  be  considered  insulting.  But  how  indignantly  will 
the  very  same  acquaintances  denounce  the  idleness  and  un- 
trustworthiness of  a British  working  man  suspected,  in  the 
service  of  a private  master,  of  interpreting  his  time  work  as 


108 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


most  servants  of  the  public  are  good  humoredly  assumed,  with- 
out hint  of  disapproval,  to  interpret  theirs ! 

This  obsolescence  of  elementary  social  morality  is  most 
noticeable  in  women  dependent  upon  incomes  from  property. 
They  are  doubly  removed  from  the  primary  conditions  of  life ; 
they  are  less  likely  than  their  men  folk  to  be  engaged  in  any 
work  of  perceptible  social  utility  outside  of  their  own  homes ; 
and  their  intellectual  education  being  generally  far  more  im- 
perfect, it  is  only  natural  that  their  ideas  of  morality  should  be 
still  more  intimately  adapted  to  the  conditions  of  their  class, 
and  less  to  the  general  conditions  of  human  society.  The  angels 
of  heaven,  we  have  always  understood,  are  exempt  from  the 
apparatus  of  digestion,  and  are  clothed  as  freely  as  the  lilies  of 
the  field.  In  any  society  where  all  common  needs  are  so 
supplied  it  would  be  immoral,  surely,  because  a waste  of  time, 
to  work  as  for  a living.  Now  the  universal  ideal  of  capitalism 
is  that  man,  being  created  a little  lower  than  the  angels,  should 
raise  himself  to  their  level  in  this  respect  by  the  acquisition  of 
property,  a process  pleasantly  described  as  attaining  a com- 
petence or  independence,  that  is  to  say  the  right  to  be  dependent 
and  incompetent.  The  result  of  this  has  been  a prejudice, 
which  only  within  quite  recent  years  has  begun  to  be  seriously 
shaken,  that  it  is  humiliating,  even  disgraceful,  for  a lady  to 
have  to  earn  her  own  living  at  all,  for  a gentleman  to  practise 
a handicraft  for  money,  for  a nobleman  to  go  into  trade  : a 
prejudice  for  which,  in  a class  society,  there  was  much  justifi- 
cation, but  which  is  obviously  a fragment  of  class  morality 
directly  antagonistic  to  the  common  social  morality  which 
recognises  all  useful  industry  as  praiseworthy.  It  is  now  yield- 
ing to  economic  pressure  and  to  the  stimulus  of  the  desire  to 
get  rich.  Ladies  are  being  driven,  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Walter 
Besant’s  protestations  will  continue  to  be  driven,  into  most 
of  the  female  handicrafts,  though  some  are  still  outside  the 
pale  of  respectability.  Ranching  in  America,  though  not  yet 
drovering  and  butchering  in  England,  is  suitable  occupation 
for  the  aristocracy.  The  “directing”  of  companies  and  the 
patronizing  of  nitrogenous  Volunteer  Colonels  are  legitimate 
modes  of  exploiting  of  a title.  The  prejudice  against  useful 
employments  is  balanced  for  decency’s  sake  by  a hypocritical 
laudation  of  useless  ones.  The  fiction  so  dear  to  the  Primrose 
Dame,  that  the  rich  are  the  employers  of  the  poor,  the  idlers 


MORAL. 


109 


the  supporters  of  the  industrious,  takes  nowadays  forms  more 
insidious  than  the  rugged  proposition  that  private  vices  are 
public  benefits.  The  amusements,  the  purely  recreational . 
activities,  of  country  gentlemen  are  glorified  in  the  National 
Review^  as  ‘‘hard  work.”  It  is  pretended  that  the  leisured 
class  is  the  indispensable  patron  and  promoter  of  culture  and 
the  fine  arts.  The  claim  that  such  functions  are  virtues  is  a 
direct  concession  to  the  feeling  that  some  effort  must  be  made 
to  exhibit  the  practices  of  parasitic  society  as  compatible  with 
its  preaching  of  the  common  social  morality. 

The  same  necessity  causes  an  exaggerated  tribute  of  praise 
to  be  paid  to  such  really  useful  work  as  is  done  under  no  com- 
pulsion but  that  of  the  social  instinct.  This  kind  of  activity  is 
habitually  pointed  to,  by  the  friends  of  those  who  are  engaged 
in  it,  as  evidence  of  extraordinary  virtue.  A few  hours  of 
attention  every  w^eek  to  the  condition  of  the  poor,  a few 
gratuitously  devoted  to  local  administration,  a habit  of  industry 
in  any  branch  of  literature  or  science : these  are  imputed  as  an 
excess  of  righteousness  by  persons  who  denounce  the  wage 
laborer  as  an  idler  and  a shirk.  Such  activity  is  work  of 
supererogation,  approved  but  not  required  or  expected.  The 
motto  of  “noblesse  oblige”  has  not  been  adopted  by  the 
plutocracy.  Similar  approbation  and  admiration  are  extended 
to  those  who,  while  already  earning  their  living  by  a reason- 
able day’s  work,  employ  their  spare  time,  or  a part  of  it,  in 
gratuitous  activities  of  the  kinds  referred  to.  It  may  be  safely 
said  that  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  this  kind  of  work  is 
done  by  people  who  are  simultaneously  earning  an  income  in 
middle  class  professions  or  by  the  less  exhausting  forms  of 
wage  labor.  Most  of  them  have  probably  had  experience  of 
the  ridiculous  inappropriateness  of  the  commendation  usually 
paid  to  their  gratuitous  energy  by  well-to-do  friends.  The 
activity  is  moral,  no  doubt ; but  its  exercise  gives  no  sensation 
of  virtue  or  praiseworthiness  ; it  is  followed  because  it  is  seen 
to  be  reasonable,  because  it  is  the  path  indicated  by  common- 
sense  towards  the  satisfaction  of  the  individual  passion  for  the 
extension  of  freedom  and  love. 

The  phenomena  of  class  morality  are  ancient  and  familiar 
enough.  They  have  varied  throughout  history  with  the 

^ See  National  Review  for  February,  1888,  “ Are  Rich  Landowners 
Idlel by  Lady  Janetta  Manners  (now  Duchess  of  Rutland). 


no 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


changing  character  of  the  basis  of  class  distinctions.  The  great 
permanent  distinction  of  sex,  and  the  social  relations  between 
man  and  woman  which  have  arisen  thereout  in  the  period  of 
civilisation  from  which  the  world  is  now  emerging,  have 
resulted  not  only  in  the  establishment  of  distinct  codes  of 
chastity  for  the  sexes,  but  also  in  innumerable  prejudices 
against  the  participation  of  one  sex  or  the  other  in  activities 
having  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  physiological  distinction. 
They  have  even  succeeded  in  producing,  through  inequality  of 
freedom  and  education,  well  marked  differences  in  mental 
habit,  which  show  themselves  continually  when  men  and  women 
are  confronted  with  the  same  questions  of  truthfulness,  honor, 
or  logic.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe  that  most  of  these 
differences  are  distinctly  traceable  to  the  institution  of  private 
property,  and  to  its  concentration  in  the  hands  of  the  male  as 
the  stronger  individual  in  a competitive  society.  The  class 
moralities  of  societies  whose  orders  have  been  based  immedi- 
ately on  status  or  caste  have  formed  the  subject  of  an  extensive 
literature.  The  tracing  of  all  such  distinctions  to  their  root  in 
economic  circumstances  is  scarcely  less  interesting  than  the 
investigation  of  the  same  foundation  for  sex  morality.  But 
even  the  interpreters  of  the  Church  Catechism  have  abandoned 
the  appeal  to  status  as  the  basis  of  duty  ; the  idea  of  hereditary 
aristocracy  is  dead  ; and  class  distinctions  and  their  appurtenant 
ethics  are  now  founded  directly  and  obviously  on  property. 

We  have  glanced  at  some  effects  of  our  present  property  sys- 
tem which  work  continually  for  the  destruction  of  the  traditions 
of  social  morality  in  the  capitalist  class.  The  fundamental  idea 
of  that  system,  that  man  can  live  without  working,  as  the  angels 
of  heaven,  is  (fortunately)  self-contradictory  in  this  respect,  that 
in  human  society  no  class  can  so  live  except  by  the  double  labor 
of  another  class  or  classes.  The  would-be  angelic  society  on 
earth  must  either  own  chattel  slaves,  or  be  a military  caste  taking 
tribute,  or  a parasitical  and  exploiting  class  extracting  rent  and 
interest  by  the  operation  of  the  industrial  system  analysed  in  the 
preceding  papers.  Such  a class  and  such  a system  are,  as  we 
are  all  becoming  aware,  more  virulently  revolutionary  in  their 
operation,  and  more  certain  to  bring  about  their  own  destruction 
than  either  chattel  slavery  or  feudalism.  Of  these  three  phases 
of  human  injustice  that  of  wage  slavery  will  surely  be  the  short- 
est. But  meanwhile  the  propertied  class  assumes  to  represent 


MORAL. 


Ill 


civilisation ; its  approved  morality  is  preached  and  taught  in 
church  and  schools ; it  debases  our  public  opinion  ; and  it  directly 
poisons  all  that  host  of  workers  who  are  at  present  hangers-on 
of  the  rich,  whether  as  menial  servants  or  as  ministering  to  their 
especial  amusements  and  extravagance.  There  is  no  such  snob 
as  a fashionable  dressmaker  ; and  there  is  no  class  of  the  prole- 
tariat so  dehumanised  as  the  class  of  domestic  servants. 

Now  if  these  results  are  effected  in  the  class  whose  livelihood 
is  assured,  and  whose  education  and  culture  have  given  it  a hold 
on  the  higher  inducements  to  morality  — if  we  here  find  morality 
strangled  at  the  root  and  starving,  what  shall  we  find  when  we 
turn  to  the  masses  whose  livelihood  is  not  assured  them  ? Our 
Greek,  perhaps,  would  say  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
practise  virtue,  just  as  Plato  in  his  ‘‘  Republic  ” suggested  that 
only  the  philosophic  class  could  be  really  moral,  since  slaves  and 
the  proletariat  could  not  receive  the  intellectual  education  nec- 
essary to  train  the  reason.  The  great  bulk  of  the  wage  earning 
class  in  modern  civilised  countries  is  so  far  assured  of  its  liveli- 
liood  that  it  remains  thoroughly  permeated  with  common  social 
morality.  It  is,  from  habit  and  preference,  generally  industrious 
and  kindly,  thus  exhibiting  the  two  most  important  qualifications 
for  social  life.  It  remains  to  a great  extent  honest,  though 
competition  and  capitalism  are  directly  antagonistic  to  honesty. 
The  decalogue  of  commercial  morality  has  its  own  peculiar  inter- 
pretation of  stealing,  murder,  false  witness  and  coveting ; and 
yet  the  most  unscrupulous  wrecker  in  the  City  will  be  outraged 
in  his  finest  feelings  by  the  class  morality  of  the  plumber,  who, 
called  in  to  bring  the  gas  to  reason,  takes  the  opportunity  to 
disorganise  the  water-supply  and  introduce  a duster  into  the 
drain.  The  employer  is  aghast  at  the  increase  of  idleness  and 
bad  workmanship  under  a system  in  which  the  good  workman 
knows  that  to  work  his  best  will  not  only  not  be  worth  his  while 
but  will  lead  to  the  exaction  of  heavier  tasks  from  his  fellows. 

But  it  is  not  in  the  mass  of  the  proletariat  that  the  action  of 
our  property  system  in  destroying  elementary  morality  is  most 
conspicuous.  It  is  in  those  whom  it  excludes  even  from  the 
proletariat  proper  that  this  extreme  result  is  clearest.  The 
characteristic  operation  of  the  modern  industrial  economy  is  con- 
tinually and  repeatedly  to  thrust  out  individuals  or  bodies  of  the 
workers  from  their  settlement  in  the  social  organism  — to  eject, 
as  it  were,  the  coral  insect  from  the  cell  in  which  he  is  develop- 


112 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


ing.  The  capitalist  farming  system  expels  the  agricultural 
laborer  from  the  village  ; the  machine  expels  the  craftsman  from 
the  ranks  of  skilled  labor ; the  perpetual  competition  and  con- 
solidation of  capital  in  every  trade  alternately  destroys  employ- 
ment in  that  trade  and  disorganises  others.  Overproduction  in 
one  year  leaves  thousands  of  workers  wageless  in  the  next.  The 
ranks  of  unskilled  labor,  the  army  of  the  unemployed,  are  day  by 
day  recruited  in  these  fashions.  An  inveterate  social  habit,  an  al- 
most indestructible  patience,  a tenacious  identification  of  his 
own  desire  with  the  desire  of  those  whom  he  loves,  in  most  cases 
preserve  the  worker  from  accepting  the  sentence  of  exclusion 
from  society.  If  he  is  able-bodied,  intelligent  and  fortunate,  he 
will  struggle  with  hard  times  till  he  finds  fresh  occupation  among 
strange  surroundings  ; but  woe  to  him  if  he  be  weakly,  or  old, 
or  unpractical.  In  such  a case  he  will  almost  infallibly  become 
a pauper  or  an  outcast,  one  of  that  residuum  of  unskilled,  unem- 
ployed, unprofital^le  and  hopeless  human  beings  which  in  all 
great  cities  festers  about  the  base  of  the  social  pyramid.  And 
his  children  will  become  the  street  Arabs  and  the  corner-boys 
and  the  child-whores  and  the  sneak-thieves  who,  when  they 
come  of  age,  accept  their  position  as  outside  of  social  life  and 
resume  the  existence  of  the  wild  beasts  that  fathered  man  — the 
purely  predatory  and  unsocial  activity  of  harrying  their  neighbors 
for  their  own  support.  Before  society  was,  morality  was  not : 
those  who  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  the  ends  for  which  society 
exists  will  adapt  their  morality  to  suit  their  outcast  state:  there 
will  indeed  be  honor  among  thieves,  just  as  there  will  be  cant 
and  insincerity  among  the  parasitic  rich  ; but  the  youth  who  has 
been  nurtured  between  the  reformatory  and  the  slum  has  little 
chance  of  finding  a foothold,  if  he  would,  in  the  restless  whirl 
of  modern  industry,  and  still  less  of  retaining  permanently  such 
foothold  as  he  may  manage  to  find. 

When  the  conditions  of  social  life  are  such  that  the  individ- 
ual may  be  excluded  through  no  unfitness  of  his  own  for  co-opera- 
tion, or  may  be  born  without  a chance  of  acquiring  fitness  for  it, 
we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  conditions  of  primitive  ages. 
And  if  you  force  him  back  upon  the  elemental  instincts,  one  of 
two  things  will  happen.  Either,  if  the  individual  is  weak  through 
physical  deterioration  or  incapacity  to  combine  with  his  fellow 
outcasts,  he  will  be  crushed  and  killed  by  society  and  putrefy 
about  its  holy  places  ; or,  if  he  has  indomitable  life  and  vigor. 


MORAL. 


113 


he  will  revert  to  the  argument  of  elemental  forces  : he  will  turn 
and  explode  society.  Here,  then,  we  should  fear  explosion,  for 
we  are  not  as  submissive  in  extremities  as  the  proletariats  of 
arrested  Indian  civilisations.  But  with  us  the  class  whose  free- 
dom is  incessantly  threatened  by  the  operation  of  private  capi- 
talism is  the  class  which  by  its  political  position  holds  in  its 
hands  the  key  to  the  control  of  industrial  form  : that  is  to  say, 
its  members  can  modify,  as  soon  as  they  elect  to,  the  laws  of 
property  and  inheritance  in  this  State  of  Britain.  They  can,  as 
soon  as  they  see  clearly  what  is  needed  supersede  institutions 
now  immoral  because  useless  and  mischievous  by  institutions 
which  shall  re-establish  the  elementary  conditions  of  social  exis- 
tence and  the  possibility  of  the  corresponding  morality  — namely, 
the  opportunity  for  each  individual  to  earn  his  living  and  the 
compulsion  upon  him  to  do  so. 

Returning  from  the  consideration  of  the  “residuum’’  and  the 
“ criminal  classes,”  we  find  that  even  the  workers  of  the  em- 
ployed proletariat  are  by  no  means  wholly  moral.  In  spite  of 
the  massive  healthiness  of  their  behavior  in  ordinary  relations, 
they  are  generally  coarse  in  their  habits ; they  lack  intelligence 
in  their  amusements  and  refinement  in  their  tastes.  The  worst 
result  of  this  is  the  popularity  of  boozing  and  gambling  and 
allied  forms  of  excitement,  with  their  outcomes  in  violence  and 
meanness.  But  when  once  society  has  ensured  for  man  the 
opportunity  for  satisfying  his  primary  needs  — once  it  has  en- 
sured him  a healthy  body  and  a wholesome  life,  his  advance  in 
the  refinements  of  social  morality,  in  the  conception  and  satis- 
faction of  his  secondary  and  more  distinctly  human  desires,  is 
solely  and  entirely  a matter  of  education.  This  will  be  attested 
by  every  man  and  woman  who  has  at  all  passed  through  the 
primary  to  the  secondary  passions.  But  education  in  the  sense 
alluded  to  is  impossible  for  the  lad  who  leaves  school  at  fourteen 
and  works  himself  weary  six  days  in  the  week  ever  afterwards. 

The  oldest  Socialistic  institution  of  considerable  importance 
and  extent  is  the  now  decrepit  Catholic  Church.  The  Catholic 
Church  has  always  insisted  on  the  duty  of  helping  the  poor,  not 
on  the  ground  of  the  social  danger  of  a “ residuum,”  but  by  the 
nobler  appeal  to  the  instinct  of  human  benevolence.  The 
Catholic  Church  developed,  relatively  to  the  enlightenment  of  its 
age,  the  widest  and  freest  system  of  education  the  world  has 
ever  seen  before  this  century.  Catholic  Christianity,  by  its  rev- 


114 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


olutionary  conception  that  God  was  incarnated  in  Man,  ex- 
ploding the  hideous  superstition  that  the  imagination  of  the 
thoughts  of  man’s  heart  was  only  to  do  evil  continually,  and 
substituting  the  faith  in  the  perfectibility  of  each  individual  soul ; 
by  its  brilliant  and  powerful  generalisations  that  God  must  be 
Love,  because  there  is  nothing  better,  and  that  man  is  freed  from 
the  law  by  the  inward  guidance  of  grace,  has  done  more  for  social 
morality  than  any  other  religion  of  the  world. 

Protestant  Individualism  in  England  shattered  the  Catholic 
Church ; founded  the  modern  land  system  upon  its  confiscated 
estates ; destroyed  the  mediaeval  machinery  of  charity  and 
education;  and  in  religion  rehabilitated  the  devil,  and  the 
doctrines  of  original  sin  and  the  damnable  danger  of  reason 
and  good  works. 

Out  of  the  wreckage  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  amid  the 
dissolution  of  the  Protestant  religion,  there  successively 
emerged,  at  an  interval  of  some  three  hundred  years,  the  two 
great  socialistic  institutions  of  the  Poor  Law  and  the  People’s 
Schools.  As  the  pretence  of  a foundation  of  Christian  obli- 
gation withered  from  out  of  the  Poor  Law,  till  it  has  come  to 
be  outspokenly  recognised  as  nothing  but  a social  safety-valve, 
the  individualist  and  commercial  administration  of  this  rudi- 
mentary socialistic  machinery  deprived  it  of  its  efficiency  even 
in  this  elementary  function.  He  to  whom  the  workhouse 
means  the  break  up  of  his  home,  and  his  own  condemnation  to 
a drudgery  insulting  because  useless  and  wasteful,  would  as  lief 
take  his  exclusion  from  society  in  another  and  a less  degrading 
way,  either  by  death,  or  by  reluctant  enrolment  in  the  re- 
siduum and  so  it  has  come  to  pass  that  outside  of  their  use 
as  hospitals  for  the  aged  and  infirm,  the  poor-houses  are  princi- 
pally employed  as  the  club-houses  and  hotels  of  the  great  frater- 
nity of  habitual  tramps  and  cadgers  ; and  not  till  he  has  sunk  to 
this  level  does  the  struggling  proletarian  seek  work  ” there. 

Socialists  would  realize  the  idea  of  the  Poor  Law,  regarding 
that  society  as  deadly  sick  in  which  the  individual  cannot  find 
subsistence  by  industry,  in  the  only  way  in  which  it  can  be 
realised:  namely,  by  the  organisation  of  production  and  the 
resumption  of  its  necessary  instruments.  It  is  not  so  great  a 
matter  in  their  eyes  that  the  perpetual  toll  of  rent  and  inter- 
est deprives  the  workers  of  the  wealth  which  their  activities 
produce ; nor  is  it  the  actual  pressure  of  this  heavy  tribute 


MORAL. 


115 


that  would  force  on  the  Social  Revolution,  if  the  system  only 
left  men  the  assurance  of  the  comforts  of  tame  beasts.  It  is 
the  constant  disquiet  and  uncertainty,  the  increasing  frequency 
of  industrial  crises,  that  are  the  revolutionary  preachers  of  our 
age  ; and  it  is  the  disappearance  at  the  base  and  at  the  summit 
of  society  of  the  conditions  of  social  morality,  that  rouses 
those  whose  mere  material  interests  remain  unaffected. 

But  though  it  is  not  envy  or  resentment  at  this  tribute  that 
mostly  moves  us  to  our  warfare,  this  tribute  we  must  certainly 
resume  if  the  ideal  of  the  school  is  to  effect  its  social  purpose. 
For  the  ideal  of  the  school  implies,  in  the  first  place,  leisure  to 
learn  : that  is  to  say,  the  release  of  children  from  all  non-edu- 
cational  labor  until  mind  and  physique  have  had  a fair  start 
and  training,  and  the  abolition  of  compulsion  on  the  adult  to 
work  any  more  than  the  socially  necessary  stint.  The  actual 
expenditure  on  public  education  must  also  be  considerably 
increased,  at  any  rate  until  parents  are  more  generally  in  a 
position  to  instruct  their  own  children.  But  as  soon  as  the 
mind  has  been  trained  to  appreciate  the  inexhaustible  interest 
and  beauty  of  the  world,  and  to  distinguish  good  literature 
from  bad,  the  remainder  of  education,  granted  leisure,  is  a 
comparatively  inexpensive  matter.  Literature  is  become  dirt- 
cheap  ; and  all  the  other  educational  arts  can  be  communally 
enjoyed.  The  schools  of  the  adult  are  the  journal  and  the 
library,  social  intercourse,  fresh  air,  clean  and  beautiful  cities, 
the  joy  of  the  fields,  the  museum,  the  art-gallery,  the  lecture- 
hall,  the  drama,  and  the  opera ; and  only  when  these  schools 
are  free  and  accessible  to  all  will  the  reproach  of  proletarian 
coarseness  be  done  away. 

Yet  the  most  important  influence  in  the  repairing  of  social 
morality  may  perhaps  be  looked  for  not  so  much  from  the 
direct  action  of  these  elements  of  the  higher  education,  as 
from  those  very  socialist  forms  of  property  and  industry, 
which  we  believe  to  be  the  primary  condition  for  allowing  such 
higher  education  to  affect  the  majority  at  all.  Nothing  so  well 
trains  the  individual  to  identify  his  life  with  the  life  of  society 
as  the  identification  of  the  conditions  of  his  material  suste- 
nance with  those  of  his  fellows,  in  short,  as  industrial  co-opera- 
tion. Not  for  many  centuries  has  there  been  such  compulsion 
as  now  for  the  individual  to  acknowledge  a social  ethic.  For 
now,  for  the  first  time  since  the  dissolution  of  the  early  tribal 


116 


THE  BASIS  OF  SOCIALISM. 


communisms,  and  over  areas  a hundred  times  wider  than 
theirs,  the  individual  worker  earns  his  living,  fulfils  his  most 
elementary  desire,  not  by  direct  personal  production,  but  by  an 
intricate  co-operation  in  which  the  effect  and  value  of  his  per- 
sonal effort  are  almost  indistinguishable.  The  apology  for  indi- 
vidualist appropriation  is  exploded  by  the  logic  of  the  facts  of 
communist  production : no  man  can  pretend  to  claim  the  fruits 
of  his  own  labor  ; for  his  whole  ability  and  opportunity  for 
working  are  plainly  a vast  inheritance  and  contribution  of 
which  he  is  but  a transient  and  accidental  beneficiary  and 
steward  ; and  his  power  of  turning  them  to  his  own  account 
depends  entirely  upon  the  desires  and  needs  of  other  people 
for  his  services.  The  factory  system,  the  machine  industry, 
the  world  commerce,  have  abolished  individualist  production ; 
and  the  completion  of  the  co-operative  form  towards  which  th.e 
transition  stage  of  individualist  capitalism  is  hurrying  us,  will 
render  a conformity  with  social  ethics,  a universal  condition  of 
tolerable  existence  for  the  individual. 

This  expectation  is  already  justified  by  the  phenomena  of 
contemporary  opinion.  The  moral  ideas  appropriate  to  Social- 
ism are  permeating  the  whole  of  modern  society.  They  are 
clearly  recognisable  not  only  in  the  proletariat,  but  also  in  the 
increasing  philanthropic  activity  of  members  of  the  propertied 
class,  w^ho,  while  denouncing  Socialism  as  a dangerous  exag- 
geration of  what  is  necessary  for  social  health,  work  honestly 
enough  for  alleviatory  reforms  which  converge  irresistibly 
towards  it.  The  form,  perhaps,  does  not  outrun  the  spirit, 
any  more  than  the  spirit  anticipates  the  form  ; and  it  may 
have  been  sufficient  in  this  paper  to  have  showm  some  grounds 
for  the  conviction  that  Socialist  morality,  like  that  of  all  pre- 
ceding systems,  is  only  that  morality  which  the  conditions  of 
human  existence  have  made  necessary;  that  it  is  only  the 
expression  of  the  eternal  passion  of  life  seeking  its  satisfaction 
tlirougli  tlie  striving  of  each  individual  for  the  freest  and  full- 
est activity ; that  Socialism  is  but  a stage  in  the  unending  pro- 
gression out  of  the  weakness  and  the  ignorance  in  which 
society  and  the  individual  alike  are  born,  towards  the  strength 
and  the  enlightenment  in  which  they  can  see  and  choose  their 
own  w^ay  forward  — from  the  chaos  where  morality  is  not  to 
the  consciousness  which  sees  that  morality  is  reason ; and  to 
have  made  some  attempt  to  justify  the  claim  that  the  cardinal 
virtue  of  Socialism  is  nothing  else  than  Common  Sense, 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


PROPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


BY  GRAHAM  WALLAS. 

In  the  early  days  of  Socialism  no  one  who  was  not  ready 
with  a complete  description  of  Society  as  it  ought  to  be,  dared 
come  forward  to  explain  any  point  in  the  theory.  Each  leader 
had  his  own  method  of  organising  property,  education,  domestic 
life,  and  the  production  of  wealth.  Each  was  quite  sure  that 
mankind  had  only  to  fashion  themselves  after  his  model  in 
order,  like  the  prince  and  princess  in  the  fairy  story,  to  live 
happily  ever  after.  Every  year  would  then  be  like  the  year 
before;  and  no  more  history  need  be  written.  Even  now  a 
thinker  here  and  there  like  Gronlund  or  Rebel  sketches  in  the 
old  spirit  an  ideal  commonwealth  ; though  he  does  so  with  an 
apology  for  attempting  to  forecast  the  unknowable.  But 
Socialists  generally  have  become,  if  not  wiser  than  their  spiritual 
fathers,  at  least  less  willing  to  use  their  imagination.  The 
growing  recognition,  due  in  part  to  Darwin,  of  causation  in  the 
development  of  individuals  and  societies ; the  struggles  and 
disappointments  of  half  a century  of  agitation  ; the  steady 
introduction  of  Socialistic  institutions  by  men  who  reject 
Socialist  ideas,  all  incline  us  to  give  up  any  expectation  of  a 
final  and  perfect  reform.  W^e  are  more  apt  to  regard  the  slow 
and  often  unconscious  progress  of  the  Time  spirit  as  the  only 
adequate  cause  of  social  progress,  and  to  attempt  rather  to 
discover  and  proclaim  what  the  future  mtist  be,  than  to  form  an 
organisation  of  men  determined  to  make  the  future  what  it 
should  be. 

But  the  new  conception  of  Socialism  has  its  dangers  as  well 
as  the  old.  Fifty  years  ago  Socialists  were  tempted  to 
exaggerate  the  influence  of  the  ideal,  to  expect  everything  from 
a sudden  impossible  change  of  all  mens’  hearts.  Nowadays 
we  are  tempted  to  under-value  the  ideal  — to  forget  that  even 


120 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


the  Time  spirit  itself  is  only  the  sum  of  individual  strivings  and 
aspirations,  and  that  again  and  again  in  history  changes  which 
might  have  been  delayed  for  centuries  or  might  never  have 
come  at  all,  have  been  brought  about  by  the  persistent  preach- 
ing of  some  new  and  higher  life,  the  offspring  not  of  circum- 
stance but  of  hope.  And  of  all  the  subjects  upon  which  men 
require  to  be  brought  to  a right  mind  and  a clear  understand- 
ing, there  is,  Socialists  think,  none  more  vital  to-day  than 
Property. 

The  word  Property  has  been  used  in  nearly  as  many  senses 
as  the  word  Law.  The  best  definition  I have  met  with  is  John 
Austin’s  ‘^any  right  which  gives  to  the  entitled  party  such  a 
power  or  liberty  of  using  or  disposing  of  the  subject  ....  as 
is  merely  limited  generally  by  the  rights  of  all  other  persons.”  ^ 
This  applies  only  to  private  property.  It  will  be  convenient  in 
discussing  the  various  claims  of  the  State,  the  municipality, 
and  the  individual,  to  use  the  word  in  a wider  sense  to  denote 
not  only  the  power  or  liberty  ” of  the  individual,  but  also  the 
‘^rights  of  all  other  persons.”  In  this  sense  I shall  speak  of 
the  property  of  the  State  or  municipality.  I shall  also  draw  a 
distinction,  economic  perhaps  rather  than  legal,  between  prop- 
erty in  things,  or  the  exclusive  right  of  access  to  defined 
material  objects,  property  in  debts  and  future  services,  and 
property  in  ideas  (copyright  and  patent  right). 

The  material  things  in  which  valuable  property  rights  can 
exist,  may  be  roughly  divided  into  means  of  production  and 
means  of  consumption.  Among  those  lowest  tribes  of  savages 
who  feed  on  fruit  and  insects,  and  build  themselves  at  night  a 
rough  shelter  with  boughs  of  trees,  there  is  little  distinction 
between  the  acts  of  production  and  consumption.  But  in  a 
populous  and  civilised  country  very  few  even  of  the  simplest 
wants  of  men  are  satisfied  directly  by  nature.  Nearly  every 
commodity  wdiich  man  consumes  is  produced  and  renewed  by 
the  deliberate  application  of  human  industry  to  material  objects. 
The  general  stock  of  materials  on  which  such  industry  works  is 

Land.”  Any  materials  which  have  been  separated  from  the 
general  stock  or  have  been  already  considerably  modified  by 
industry,  are  called  capital  if  they  are  either  to  be  used  to  aid 
production  or  are  still  to  be  worked  on  before  they  are  con- 


1 Lectures  on  Jurisprudence.  Lecture  XLVIII. 


PROPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


121 


Slimed.  When  they  are  ready  to  be  consumed  they  are  wealth 
for  consumption.”  Such  an  analysis,  though  generally  em- 
ployed by  political  economists,  is  of  necessity  very  rough.  No 
one  can  tell  whether  an  object  is  ready  for  immediate  consump- 
tion or  not,  unless  he  knows  the  way  in  which  it  is  to  be  con- 
sumed. A pine  forest  in  its  natural  condition  is  ready  for  the 
consumption  of  a duke  with  a taste  for  the  picturesque ; for  he 
will  let  the  trees  rot  before  his  eyes.  Cotton-wool,  a finished 
product  in  the  hands  of  a doctor,  is  raw  material  in  the  hands 
of  a spinner.  But  still  the  statement  that  Socialists  work  for 
the  owning  of  the  means  of  production  by  the  community  and 
the  means  of  consumption  by  individuals,  represents  fairly 
enough  their  practical  aim.  Not  that  they  desire  to  prevent 
the  community  from  using  its  property  whenever  it  will  for 
direct  consumption,  as,  for  instance,  when  a piece  of  common 
land  is  used  for  a public  park,  or  the  profits  of  municipal  water- 
works are  applied  to  keep  up  a municipal  library.  Nor  do 
they  contemplate  any  need  for  preventing  individuals  from 
working  at  will  on  their  possessions  in  such  a way  as  to  make 
them  more  valuable.  Even  Gronlund,  with  all  his  hatred  of 
private  industry,  could  not,  if  he  would,  prevent  any  citizen 
from  driving  a profitable  trade  by  manufacturing  bread  into 
buttered  toast  at  the  common  fire.  But  men  are  as  yet  more 
fit  for  association  in  production,  with  a just  distribution  of  its 
rewards,  than  for  association  in  the  consumption  of  the  wealth 
produced.  It  is  true  indeed  that  the  economies  of  associated 
consumption  promise  to  be  quite  as  great  as  those  of  associated 
production ; and  it  was  of  these  that  the  earlier  Socialists 
mainly  thought.  They  believed  always  that  if  a few  hundred 
persons  could  be  induced  to  throw  their  possessions  and  earn- 
ings into  a common  stock  to  be  employed  according  to  a common 
scheme,  a heaven  on  earth  would  be  created.  Since  then,  an 
exhaustive  series  of  experiments  has  proved  that  in  spite  of  its 
obvious  economy  any  system  of  associated  consumption  as  com- 
plete as  Fourier’s  ‘‘  Phalanstere  ” or  Owen’s  “ New  Hampshire  ” 
is,  except  under  very  unusual  conditions,  distasteful  to  most 
men  as  they  now  are.  Our  picture  galleries,  parks,  workmen’s 
clubs,  or  the  fact  that  rich  people  are  beginning  to  live  in  flats 
looked  after  by  a common  staff  of  servants,  do  indeed  shew 
that  associated  consumption  is  every  year  better  understood 
and  enjoyed;  but  it  remains  true  that  pleasures  chosen  by 


122 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


the  will  of  the  majority  are  often  not  recognised  as  pleasures 
at  all. 

As  long  as  this  is  so,  private  property  and  even  private 
industry  must  exist  along  with  public  property  and  public 
production.  For  instance,  each  family  now  insists  on  having  a 
separate  home,  and  on  cooking  every  day  a separate  series  of 
meals  in  a separate  kitchen.  Waste  and  discomfort  are  the 
inevitable  result;  but  families  at  present  prefer  waste  and 
discomfort  to  that  abundance  which  can  only  be  bought  by 
organisation  and  publicity.  Again,  English  families  constitute 
at  present  isolated  communistic  groups,  more  or  less  despotically 
governed.  Our  growing  sense  of  the  individual  responsibility 
and  individual  rights  of  wives  and  children  seems  already  to  be 
lessening  both  the  isolation  of  these  groups  and  their  internal 
coherency  ; but  this  tendency  must  go  very  much  further  before 
society  can  absorb  the  family  life,  or  the  industries  of  the  home 
be  managed  socially.  Thus,  associated  production  of  all  the 
means  of  family  life  may  be  developed  to  a very  high  degree 
before  we  cease  to  feel  that  an  Englishman’s  home  should  be 
his  castle,  with  free  entrance  and  free  egress  alike  forbidden. 
It  is  true  that  the  ground  on  which  houses  are  built  could 
immediately  become  the  property  of  the  community ; and  when 
one  remembers  how  most  people  in  England  are  now  lodged, 
it  is  obvious  that  they  would  gladly  inhabit  comfortable  houses 
built  and  owned  by  the  State.  But  they  certainly  would  at 
present  insist  on  having  their  own  crockery  and  chairs,  books 
and  pictures,  and  on  receiving  a certain  proportion  of  the  value 
they  produce  in  the  form  of  a yearly  or  weekly  income  to  be 
spent  or  saved  as  they  pleased.  Now  whatever  things  of  this 
kind  we  allow  a man  to  possess,  we  must  allow  him  to  exchange, 
since  exchange  never  takes  place  unless  both  parties  believe 
themselves  to  benefit  by  it.  Further,  bequest  must  be  allowed, 
since  any  but  a moderate  probate  duty  or  personalty  would, 
unless  supported  by  a strong  and  searching  public  opinion, 
certainly  be  evaded.  Moreover,  if  we  desire  the  personal 
independence  of  women  and  children,  then  their  property,  as 
far  as  we  allow  property  at  all,  must  for  a long  time  to  come  be 
most  carefully  guarded. 

There  would  remain  therefore  to  be  owned  by  the  com- 
munity the  land  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  and  the 
materials  of  those  forms  of  production,  distribution,  and  con- 


PKOPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


123 


sumption,  which  can  conveniently  be  carried  on  by  associa- 
tions larger  than  the  family  group.  Here  the  main  problem  is 
to  fix  in  each  case  the  area  of  ownership.  In  the  case  of  the 
principal  means  of  communication  and  of  some  forms  of 
industry,  it  has  been  proved  that  the  larger  the  area  controlled, 
the  greater  is  the  efficiency  of  management ; so  that  the  postal 
and  railway  systems,  and  probably  the  materials  of  some  of  the 
larger  industries,  would  be  owned  by  the  English  nation  until 
that  distant  date  when  they  might  pass  to  the  United  States  or 
the  British  Empire,  or  the  Federal  Republic  of  Europe. 
Land  is  perhaps  generally  better  held  by  smaller  social  units. 
The  rent  of  a town  or  an  agricultural  district  depends  only 
partly  on  those  natural  advantages  which  can  be  easily  esti- 
mated once  for  all  by  an  imperial  commissioner.  The  differ- 
ence in  the  rateable  value  of  Warwick  and  of  Birmingham  is 
due,  not  so  much  to  the  sites  of  the  two  towns,  as  to  the  differ- 
ence in  the  industry  and  character  of  their  inhabitants.  If 
the  Birmingham  men  prefer,  on  the  average,  intense  exertion 
resulting  in  great  material  wealth,  to  the  simpler  and  quieter 
life  lived  at  Warwick,  it  is  obviously  as  unjust  to  allow  the 
Warwick  men  to  share  equally  in  the  Birmingham  ground 
rents,  as  it  would  be  to  insist  on  one  standard  of  comfort 
being  maintained  in  Paris  and  in  Brittany. 

At  the  same  time,  those  forms  of  natural  wealth  which  are 
the  necessities  of  the  whole  nation  and  the  monopolies  of  cer- 
tain districts,  mines  for  instance,  or  harbors,  or  sources  of 
water-supply,  must  be  nationalised.”  The  salt  and  coal 
rings  of  to-day  would  be  equally  possible  and  equally  incon- 
venient under  a system  which  made  the  mining  populations 
absolute  joint  owners  of  the  mines.  Even  where  the  land  was 
absolutely  owned  by  local  bodies,  those  bodies  would  still  have 
to  contribute  to  the  national  exchequer  some  proportion  of 
their  income.  The  actual  size  of  the  units  would  in  each  case 
be  fixed  by  convenience ; and  it  is  very  likely  that  the  develop- 
ment of  the  County  Government  Act  and  of  the  parochial  and 
municipal  systems  will  soon  provide  us  with  units  of  govern- 
ment which  could  easily  be  turned  into  units  of  ownership. 

The  savings  of  communities  — if  I may  use  the  word  com- 
munity to  express  any  Social  Democratic  unit  from  the  parish 
to  the  nation  — would  probably  take  much  the  same  form  that 
the  accumulation  of  capital  takes  nowadays  : that  is  to  say, 


124 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


they  would  consist  partly  of  mills,  machinery,  railways, 
schools,  and  the  other  specialised  materials  of  future  industry, 
and  partly  of  a stock  of  commodities  such  as  food,  clothing, 
and  money,  by  which  workers  might  be  supported  while  per- 
forming work  not  immediately  remunerative.  The  savings  of 
individuals  would  consist  partly  of  consumable  commodities  or  of 
the  means  of  such  industry  as  had  not  been  socialised,  and 
partly  of  deferred  pay  for  services  rendered  to  the  community, 
such  pay  taking  the  form  of  a pension  due  at  a certain  age,  or  of 
a sum  of  commodities  or  money  payable'  on  demand. 

Voluntary  associations  of  all  kinds,  whether  joint-stock  com- 
panies, religious  corporations,  or  communistic  groups  would,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Social  Democratic  State,  consist  simply  of  so 
many  individuals  possessing  those  rights  of  property  which  are 
allowed  to  individuals.  They  might  perform  many  very  useful 
functions  in  the  future  as  in  the  past ; but  the  history  of  the 
city  companies,  of  the  New  River  company,  the  Rochdale  Pio- 
neers, or  the  Church  of  England  shows  the  danger  of  granting 
perpetual  property  rights  to  any  association  not  co-extensive 
with  the  coinmunity,  although  such  association  may  exist  for 
professedly  philanthropic  objects.  Even  in  the  case  of  univer- 
sities, where  the  system  of  independent  property-owning  cor- 
porations has  been  found  to  work  best,  the  rights  of  the  State 
should  be  delegated  and  not  surrendered. 

On  this  point  the  economic  position  of  modern  Social  Demo- 
crats differs  widely  from  the  transfigured  joint  stockism  of  the 
present  co-operative  movement  or  from  the  object  of  the  earlier 
Socialists,  for  whose  purposes  complete  community  was  always 
more  important  than  complete  inclusiveness.  Even  Socialist 
writers  of  to-day  do  not  always  see  that  the  grouping  of  the 
citizens  for  the  purpose  of  property  holding  must  be  either  on 
the  joint-stock  basis  or  on  the  territorial  basis.  Gronlund,  in 
spite  of  contradictory  matter  in  other  parts  of  his  Co-oper- 
ative Commonwealth,”  still  declares  that  each  group  of  wor- 
kers will  have  the  power  of  distributing  among  themselves  the 
whole  exchange  value  of  their  work,”  which  either  means  that 
they  will,  as  long  as  they  are  working,  be  the  absolute  joint 
owners  of  the  materials  which  they  use,  or  means  nothing  at 
all.  Now  the  proposal  that  any  voluntary  association  of  citi- 
zens should  hold  absolute  and  perpetual  property  rights  in  the 
means  of  production,  seems  to  be  not  a step  towards  Social 


PEOPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


125 


Democracy,  but  a negation  of  tlie  whole  Social  Democratic 
idea.  This  of  course  brings  us  to  the  following  dilliculty.  If 
our  communities  even  when  originally  inclusive  of  the  whole 
population  are  closed : that  is,  are  confined  to  original  mem- 
bers and  their  descendants,  new  comers  will  form  a class  like 
the  plebians  in  Rome,  or  the  metoeci  ’’  in  Athens,  without  a 
share  in  the  common  property  though  possessed  of  full  per- 
sonal freedom ; and  such  a class  must  be  a continual  social 
danger.  On  the  other  hand,  if  all  newcomers  receive  at  once 
full  economic  rights,  then  any  country  in  which  Socialism  or 
anything  approaching  it  is  established,  will  be  at  once  over-run 
by  proletarian  immigrants,  from  those  countries  in  which  the 
means  of  production  are  still  strictly  monopolised.  If  this 
were  allowed,  then,  through  the  operation  of  the  law  of  dimin- 
ishing return  and  the  law  of  population  based  on  it,  the  whole 
body  of  the  inhabitants  even  of  a Socialist  State,  might  con- 
ceivably be  finally  brought  down  to  the  bare  means  of  subsis- 
tence. It  does  not  seem  necessary  to  conclude  tliat  Socialism 
must  be  established  over  the  whole  globe  if  it  is  to  be  estab- 
lished anywhere.  What  is  necessary  is  that  we  face  the  fact, 
every  day  becoming  plainer,  that  any  determined  attempt  to 
raise  the  condition  of  the  proletariat  in  any  single  European 
country  must  be  accompanied  by  a law  of  aliens  considerate 
enough  to  avoid  cruelty  to  refugees,  or  obstruction  to  those 
whose  presence  would  raise  our  intellectual  or  industrial  aver- 
age, but  stringent  enough  to  exclude  the  unhappy  “ diluvies 
gentium,’'  the  human  rubbish  which  the  military  empires  of  the 
continent  are  so  ready  to  shoot  upon  any  open  space.  Such  a 
law  would  be  in  itself  an  evil.  It  might  be  unfairly  adminis- 
tered ; it  might  increase  national  selfishness  and  would  proba- 
bly endanger  international  good  will ; it  would  require  the 
drawing  of  a great  many  very  difficult  lines  of  distinction  ; but 
no  sufficient  argument  has  been  yet  advanced  to  disprove  the 
necessity  of  it. 

On  the  question  of  private  property  in  debts,  the  attitude  of 
the  law  in  Europe  has  changed  fundamentally  in  historical 
times.  Under  the  old  Roman  law,  the  creditor  became  the 
absolute  owner  of  his  debtor.  Nowadays,  not  only  may  a 
man  by  becoming  bankrupt  and  surrendering  all  his  visible 
property,  repudiate  his  debts  and  yet  retain  liis  personal  liberty  ; 
but  in  Factory  Acts,  Employers’  Liability  Acts,  Irish  Land 


126 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


Acts,  etc.,  certain  contracts  are  illegal  under  all  circumstances. 
With  the  growth  of  Socialism,  this  tendency  would  be  quick- 
ened. The  law  would  look  with  extreme  jealously  upon  any 
agreement  by  which  one  party  would  be  reduced  even  for  a 
time  to  a condition  of  slavery,  or  the  other  enabled  to  live 
even  for  a time  without  performing  any  useful  social  function. 
And  since  it  has  been  clearly  recognised  that  a certain  access 
to  the  means  of  industry  is  a first  condition  of  personal  free- 
dom, the  law  would  refuse  to  recognise  any  agreement  to  debar 
a man  from  such  access,  or  deprive  him  of  the  results  of  it. 
No  one  would  need  to  get  into  debt  in  order  to  provide  himself 
with  the  opportunity  of  work,  nor  would  anyone  be  allowed  to 
give  up  the  opportunity  of  work  in  order  to  obtain  a loan. 
This,  by  making  it  more  difficult  for  creditors  to  recover  debts, 
would  also  make  it  more  difficult  for  w^ould-be  debtors  to  obtain 
credit.  The  present  homestead  law  would,  in  fact,  be  extended 
to  include  everything  which  the  State  thought  necessary  for  a 
complete  life.  But  as  long  as  private  industry  and  exchange 
go  on  to  such  an  extent  as  to  make  a private  commercial  sys- 
tem convenient,  so  long  will  promises  to  pay  circulate,  and,  if 
necessary,  be  legally  enforced  under  the  conditions  above 
marked  out. 

To  whatever  extent  private  property  is  permitted,  to  that 
same  extent  the  private  taking  of  Rent  and  Interest  must  be 
also  permitted.  If  you  allow  a selfish  man  to  own  a picture 
by  Raphael,  he  will  lock  it  up  in  his  own  room  unless  you  let 
him  charge  something  for  the  privilege  of  looking  at  it.  Such 
a charge  is  at  once  Interest.  If  we  wdsh  all  Raphael’s  pictures 
to  be  freely  accessible  to  everyone,  we  must  prevent  men  not 
merely  from  exhibiting  them  for  payment,  but  from  owning 
them. 

This  argument  applies  to  other  things  besides  Raphael’s 
pictures.  If  we  allow  a man  to  own  a printing  press,  or  a 
plough,  or  a set  of  bookbinders’  tools,  or  a lease  of  a house  or 
farm,  we  must  allow  him  so  to  employ  his  possession  that  he 
may,  without  injuring  his  neighbor,  get  from  it  the  greatest 
possible  advantage.  Otherwise,  seeing  that  the  community  is 
not  responsible  for  its  intelligent  use,  any  interference  on  the 
part  of  the  community  may  well  result  in  no  intelligent  use 
being  made  of  it  at  all ; in  which  event  all  privately  owned 
materials  of  industry  not  actually  being  used  by  their  owners 


PROPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


127 


would  be  as  entirely  wasted  as  if  they  were  the  subjects  of  a 
chancery  suit.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  Duke  of  Bedford  is 
robbing  the  community  of  the  rent  of  Covent  Garden.  It  is 
not  so  easy  to  see  that  the  owners  of  the  vacant  land  adjoining 
Shaftesbury  Avenue  have  been  robbing  the  community  for 
some  years  past  of  the  rent  which  ought  to  have  been  made  out 
of  the  sites  which  they  have  left  desolate.  I know  that  it  has 
been  sometimes  said  by  Socialists : “ Let  us  allow  the  manu- 
facturer to  keep  his  mill  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle  to  keep  his 
land,  as  long  as  they  do  not  use  them  for  exploitation  by  letting 
them  out  to  others  on  condition  of  receiving  a part  of  the  wealth 
created  by  those  others.”  Then,  we  are  told,  the  manufacturer 
or  Duke  will  soon  discover  that  he  must  work  hard  fora  living. 
Such  sentiments  are  seldom  ill  received  by  men  in  the  humor 
to  see  dukes  and  capitalists  earning,  as  painfully  as  may  be, 
their  daily  bread.  Unluckily,  there  are  no  unappropriated 
acres  and  factory  sites  in  England  sufficiently  advantageous  to 
be  used  as  efficient  substitutes  for  those  upon  which  private 
property  has  fastened;  and  the  community  would  be  wise  if  it 
paid  the  Duke  of  Argyle  and  Mr.  Chamberlain  anything  short 
of  the  full  economic  rent  of  their  properties  rather  than  go 
further  and  fare  worse.  Therefore,  if  we  refused  either  to  allow 
these  gentlemen  to  let  their  property  to  those  who  would  use  it, 
or  hesitated  to  take  it  and  use  it  for  ourselves,  we  should  be 
actually  wasting  labor.  The  progressive  socialisation  of  land 
and  capital  must  proceed  by  direct  transference  of  them  to  the 
community  through  taxation  of  rent  and  interest  and  public 
organisation  of  labor  with  the  capital  so  obtained ; not  solely 
by  a series  of  restrictions  upon  their  use  in  private  exploita- 
tion. Such  concurrent  private  exploitation,  however  unre- 
stricted, could  not  in  any  case  bring  back  the  old  evils  of 
capitalism ; for  any  change  in  the  habits  of  the  people  or  in  the 
methods  of  industry  which  made  associated  production  of  any 
commodity  on  a large  scale  convenient  and  profitable,  would 
result  at  once  in  the  taking  over  of  that  industry  by  the  State 
exactly  as  the  same  conditions  now  in  America  result  at  once 
in  the  formation  of  a ring. 

It  is  because  full  ownership  is  necessary  to  the  most  intelli- 
gent and  effective  use  of  any  materials,  that  no  mere  system  of 
taxation  of  Rent  and  Interest,  even  when  so  drastic  as  Mr. 
Henry  George’s  scheme  of  universal  State  absentee  landlord- 


128 


THE  OEGAKIZATIOISr  OF  SOCIETY. 


ism,  is  likely  to  exist  except  as  a transition  stage  towards  Social 
Democracy.  Indeed  the  anarchist  idea  which  allows  the  State 
to  receive  Rent  and  Interest,  but  forbids  it  to  employ  labor,  is 
obviously  impracticable.  Unless  we  are  willing  to  pay  every 
citizen  in  hard  cash  a share  of  the  State  Rent  of  the  future,  it, 
like  the  taxes  of  to-day,  must  be  wholly  invested  in  payments 
for  work  done.  It  would  always  be  a very  serious  difficulty 
for  a Socialist  legislature  to  decide  how  far  communities  should 
be  allowed  to  incur  debts  or  pay  interest.  Socialism  once 
established,  the  chief  danger  to  its  stability  would  be  just  at 
this  point.  We  all  know  the  inept  attack  on  Socialism  which 
comes  from  a debating-society  orator  who  considers  the  subject 
for  the  first  time,  or  from  the  cultured  person  who  has  been 
brought  up  on  the  Saturday  Review,  He  tells  us  that  if 
property  were  equally  divided  to-morrow,  there  would  be  for 
the  next  ten  years  forty  men  out  of  every  hundred  working  ex- 
tremely hard,  and  the  other  sixty  lazy.  After  that  time,  the 
sixty  would  have  to  work  hard  and  keep  the  forty,  who  would 
then  be  as  lazy  as  the  sixty  were  before.  It  is  very  easy  to 
explain  that  we  do  not  want  to  divide  all  property  equally ; 
but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  guard  against  any  result  of  that  ten- 
dency in  human  nature  on  which  the  argument  is  grounded. 
Men  differ  so  widely  in  their  comparative  appreciation  of  pres- 
ent and  future  pleasures,  that  wherever  life  can  be  supported 
by  four  hours’  work  a day,  there  will  always  be  some  men 
anxious  to  work  eight  hours  in  order  to  secure  future  benefits 
for  themselves  or  their  children,  and  others  anxious  to  avoid 
their  four  hours’  work  for  the  present  by  pledging  themselves 
or  their  children  to  any  degree  of  future  privation.  As  long 
as  this  is  so,  communities  as  well  as  individuals  will  be  tempted 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  freely  offered  services  of  the  ex- 
ceptionally energetic  and  farsighted,  and  to  incur  a common 
debt  under  the  excuse  that  they  are  spreading  the  payment  of 
such  services  over  all  those  benefited  by  them.  The  municipali- 
ties, Boards  of  Works,  School  Boards,  etc.,  of  England  have 
already  created  enormous  local  debts  ; and  unless  men  grow 
wiser  in  the  next  few  months  the  new  County  Councils  will 
probably  add  to  the  burden.  As  we  sit  and  think,  it  may  seem 
easy  to  prevent  any  such  trouble  in  the  future  by  a law  for- 
bidding communities  to  incur  debts  under  any  circumstances. 
But  in  the  case  of  a central  and  supreme  government  such  a 


PROPERTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


129 


law  would,  of  course,  be  an  absurdity.  No  nation  can  escape  a 
national  debt  or  any  other  calamity  if  the  majority  in  that 
nation  desire  to  submit  to  it.  It  is  reassuring  to  see  how  the 
feeling  that  national  governments  should  pay  their  way  from 
year  to  year  grows  stronger  and  stronger.  National  debts  no 
longer  even  in  France  go  up  with  the  old  light-hearted  leaps 
and  bounds.  But  local  debts  still  increase.  In  Preston  the 
local  debt  is  said  to  amount  to  seven  times  the  annual  rating 
valuation.  And  although  at  present  (November,  1888),  since 
the  “ surf  at  the  edge  of  civilisation  ” is  only  thundering  to 
the  extent  of  three  small  colonial  wars,  our  own  national  debt 
is  slowly  going  down  ; still  if  war  were  declared  to-morrow 
with  any  European  State  no  ministry  would  dare  to  raise  all 
the  war  expenses  by  immediate  taxation  either  on  incomes  or 
on  property.  It  may  be  objected  that  no  such  danger  would 
arise  under  Socialism ; for  there  would  be  no  fund  from  which 
a loan  could  be  offered  that  would  not  be  equally  easily  reached 
by  a direct  levy.  But  if  we  are  speaking  of  society  in  the  near 
future  there  would  certainly  be  plenty  of  members  of  non- 
Socialist  States,  or  English  holders  of  property  in  them,  ready 
to  lend  money  on  good  security  to  a timid  or  desperate  or  dis- 
honest Socialist  government.  Again,  in  times  of  extreme 
stress  a government  might  believe  itself  to  require  even  personal 
possessions  ; and  it  might  be  difficult  under  such  circumstances 
not  to  offer  to  restore  them  with  or  without  interest.  In  any 
case  there  would  be  no  more  economic  difference  between  the 
new  fund-holders  and  the  old  landlords  than  between  Lord 
Salisbury  as  owner  of  the  Strand  district  and  Lord  Salisbury 
now  that  he  has  sold  his  slums  and  bought  consols.  Perhaps 
the  most  serious  danger  of  the  creation  of  a common  debt  would 
arise  from  the  earnings  of  exceptional  ability.  Modern  Social- 
ists have  learnt,  after  a long  series  of  co-operative  experiments 
and  failures,  that  the  profits  of  private  adventure  will  withdraw 
men  of  exceptional  business  talent  from  communal  service  unless 
work  of  varying  scarcity  and  intensity  is  paid  for  at  varying 
rates.  How  great  this  variation  need  be  in  order  to  ensure  full 
efficiency  can  only  be  decided  by  experience ; and  as  the  edu- 
cation and  moralisation  of  society  improves,  and  industry  be- 
comes so  thoroughly  socialised  that  the  alternative  of  private 
enterprise  will  be  less  practicable,  something  like  equality  may 
at  last  be  found  possible,  But,  meanwhile,  comparatively  large 


130 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


incomes  will  be  earned  by  men  leading  busy  and  useful  lives, 
but  often  keenly  anxious  to  secure  leisure  and  comfort  for  their 
old  age  and  aggrandisement  for  their  familyd  I have  already 
suggested  that  some  of  the  earnings  of  a man  employed  by  the 
community  might  be  left  for  a time  in  the  common  treasury  to 
accumulate  without  interest.  Now,  it  would  suit  both  these 
men  and  the  lazier  of  their  contemporaries  that  the  reward  of 
their  services  should  be  fixed  at  a very  high  rate,  and  be  left  to 
the  next  generation  for  payment;  while  the  next  generation 
might  prefer  a small  permanent  charge  to  any  attempt  to  pay 
off  the  capital  sum.  It  is  often  hinted  that  one  way  to  obviate 
this  would  be  for  each  generation  to  cultivate  a healthy  indiffer- 
ence to  the  debts  incurred  on  its  behalf  by  its  forefathers.  But 
the  citizens  of  each  new  generation  attain  citizenship  not  in 
large  bodies  at  long  intervals,  but  in  small  numbers  every  week. 
One  has  only  to  warn  sanguine  lenders  that  veiled  repudiations 
may  always  be  effected  in  such  emergencies  by  a judicious 
application  of  the  Income  Tax,  and  to  hope  that  the  progress 
of  education  under  Socialism  would  tend  to  produce  and  pre- 
serve on  such  matters  a certain  general  minimum  of  common 
sense.  If  this  minimum  is  sufficient  to  control  the  central 
government  the  debts  of  local  bodies  can  be  easily  and  sternly 
restricted. 

Property  in  services  means  of  course  property  in  future 
services.  The  wealth  which  past  services  may  have  produced 
can  be  exchanged  or  owned  ; but  the  services  themselves  cannot. 
Now  all  systems  of  law  which  we  know  have  allowed  private 
persons  to  contract  with  each  other  for  the  future  performance 
of  certain  services,  and  have  punished,  or  allowed  to  be  punished, 
the  breach  of  such  contracts.  Here  as  in  the  case  of  debts,  our 
growing  respect  for  personal  liberty  has  made  the  law  look 
jealously  on  all  onerous  agreements  made  either  by  the  citizen 
liimself  or  for  him  by  others.  In  fact,  as  Professor  Sidgwick 
points  out:  “ In  England  hardly  any  engagement  to  render  per- 
sonal service  gives  the  promisee  a legal  claim  to  more  than 
pecuniary  damages  — to  put  it  otherwise,  almost  all  such  con- 
tracts, if  unfulfilled,  turn  into  mere  debts  of  money  so  far  as  their 

1 Happily,  the  ordinary  anxieties  as  to  tlie  fate  of  children  left  with- 
out property,  especially  weaklings  or  women  unlikely  to  attract  hus- 
bands, may  be  left  out  of  account  in  speculations  concerning  socialised 
communities. 


PKOPEKTY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


131 


legal  force  goes.”  ^ The  marriage  contract  forms  the  principal 
exception  to  this  rule ; but  even  in  this  case  there  seems  to  be  a 
tendency  in  most  European  countries  to  relax  the  rigidity  of  the 
law. 

On  the  other  hand  the  direct  claims  of  the  State  to  the  services 
of  its  citizens  shew  at  present  no  signs  of  diminishing.  Compul- 
sory military  service  and  compulsory  attendance  at  school  already 
take  up  a not  inconsiderable  share  of  the  life  of  every  male  in- 
habitant of  France  and  Germany.  So  far  in  England  the  com- 
pulsion of  grown  men  to  serve  in  any  capacity  has  been  con- 
demned for  a century  past,  because  it  is  considered  wasteful  and 
oppressive  as  compared  with  the  free  contract  system  of  the  open 
market.  Most  English  Socialists  seem  inclined  to  believe  that 
all  work  for  the  State  should  be  voluntarily  engaged  and  paid 
for  out  of  the  produce  of  common  industry. 

In  considering  how  far  the  State  has  a claim  upon  the  services 
of  its  members,  we  come  upon  the  much  larger  question  — How 
far  are  we  working  for  Socialism  ; and  how  far  for  Communism  ? 
Under  pure  Socialism,  to  use  the  word  in  its  narrowest  sense, 
the  State  would  offer  no  advantage  at  all  to  any  citizen  except 
at  a price  sufficient  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  producing  it.  In 
this  sense  the  Post  Office,  for  example,  is  now  a purely  Socialistic 
institution.  Under  such  conditions  the  State  would  have  no 
claim  at  all  on  the  services  of  its  members  ; and  compulsion  to 
work  would  be  produced  by  the  fact  that  if  a man  chose  not  to 
work  he  would  be  in  danger  of  starvation.  Under  pure  Com- 
munism, on  the  other  hand,  as  defined  by  Louis  Blanc’s  dictum  : 
“ From  every  man  according  to  his  powers : to  every  man  ac- 
cording to  his  wants,”  the  State  would  satisfy  without  stint  and 
without  price  all  the  reasonable  wants  of  any  citizen.  Our 
present  drinking  fountains  are  examples  of  the  numerous  cases 
of  pure  communism  which  surround  us.  But  since  nothing  can 
be  made  without  labor,  the  commodities  provided  by  the  State 
must  be  produced  by  the  services,  voluntary  or  forced,  of  the 
citizens.  Under  pure  communism,  if  any  compulsion  to  work 
were  needed,  it  would  have  to  be  direct.  Some  communistic 
institutions  we  must  have  ; and  as  a matter  of  fact  there  is  an 
increasing  number  of  them  already  in  England.  Indeed,  if  the 
whole  or  any  part  of  that  Rent  Fund  which  is  due  to  the  differ- 
ence between  the  best  and  worst  materials  of  industry  in  use  be 
1 “ Principles  of  Political  Economy,”  p.  435. 


132 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


taken  for  the  State,  by  taxation  or  otherwise,  it,  or  rather  the 
advantages  produced  by  its  expenditure,  can  hardly  be  distributed 
otherwise  than  communis ticully.  F or,  as  men  are  now,  saturated 
with  immoral  principles  by  our  commercial  system,  the  State 
would  have  to  be  exceedingly  careful  in  deciding  what  wants 
could  be  freely  satisfied  without  making  direct  compulsion  to 
labor  necessary.  It  would  cost  by  no  means  an  impossible  sum 
to  supply  a tolerable  shelter  with  a bed,  and  a sufficient  daily 
portion  of  porridge,  or  bread  and  cheese,  or  even  of  gin  and 
water,  to  each  citizen ; but  no  sane  man  would  propose  to  do  so 
in  the  existing  state  of  public  morals.  For  more  than  a century 
the  proletarians  of  Europe  have  been  challenged  by  their  masters 
to  do  as  little  work  as  they  can.  They  have  been  taught  by  the 
practical  economists  of  the  Trades  Unions,  and  have  learnt  for 
themselves  by  bitter  experience,  that  every  time  any  of  them  in 
a moment  of  ambition  or  goodwill  does  one  stroke  of  work  not 
in  his  bond,  he  is  increasing  the  future  unpaid  labor  not  only  of 
himself  but  of  his  fellows.  At  the  same  time  every  circum- 
stance of  monotony,  ugliness,  and  anxiety  has  made  the  work  as 
wearisome  and  disgusting  as  possible.  All,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, now  look  upon  the  working  day  as  a period  of  slavery, 
and  find  such  happiness  as  they  can  get  only  in  a few  hours  or 
minutes  that  intervene  between  work  and  sleep.  For  a few,  that 
happiness  consists  in  added  toil  of  thought  and  speech  in  the 
cause  of  themselves  and  their  comrades.  The  rest  care  only  for 
such  rough  pleasures  as  are  possible  to  men  both  poor  and  over- 
worked. There  would  be  plenty  of  excuse  if  under  these  circum- 
stances they  dreamt,  as  they  are  accused  of  dreaming,  of  some 
universal  division  of  the  good  things  of  the  earth  — of  some 
means  of  being  utterly  at  leisure,  if  only  for  a week  or  two. 

But  there  are  products  of  labor  which  the  workmen  in  their 
time  of  triumph  might  freely  offer  each  other  without  causing 
the  weakest  brother  to  forego  any  form  of  useful  social  work. 
Among  such  products  are  those  ideas  which  we  have  brought 
under  the  dominion  of  private  property  by  means  of  copyright 
and  patent  right.  Luckily  for  us  the  dominion  is  neither  com- 
plete nor  permanent.  If  the  Whig  landlords  who  are  respon- 
sible for  most  of  tlie  details  of  our  glorious  constitution  had  been 
also  authors  and  inventors  for  profit,  we  should  probably  have 
had  the  strictest  rights  of  perpetual  property  or  even  of  entail  in 
ideas  ; and  there  would  now  have  been  a Duke  of  Shakspere  to 


PROPERTY  UNDER.  SOCIALISM. 


133 


whom  we  should  all  have  had  to  pay  two  or  three  pounds  for 
the  privilege  of  reading  his  ancestor’s  works,  provided  that  we 
return  the  copy  uninjured  at  the  end  of  a fortnight.  But  even 
for  the  years  during  which  copyright  and  patents  now  last,  the 
system  which  allows  an  author  or  inventor  a monopoly  in  his 
ideas  is  a stupid  and  ineffective  way  either  of  paying  for  his 
work  or  of  satisfying  the  public  wants.  In  each  case  the  author 
or  inventor  obtains  a maximum  nett  return  by  leaving  unsatisfied 
the  wants,  certainly  of  many,  probably  of  most  of  those  who 
desire  to  read  his  book  or  use  his  invention.  We  all  know  that 
the  public  got  a very  good  bargin  when  it  paid  the  owners  of 
Waterloo  Bridge  more  than  they  could  possibly  have  made  by 
any  scheme  of  tolls.  In  the  same  way  it  is  certain  that  any 
government  which  aimed  at  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  great- 
est number  could  afford  to  pay  a capable  artist  or  author  possibly 
even  more  than  he  gets  from  the  rich  men  who  are  his  present 
patrons,  and  certainly  more  than  he  could  get  by  himself  selling 
or  exhibiting  his  productions  in  a society  where  few  possessed 
wealth  for  which  they  had  not  worked.  Although  the  State 
could  thus  afford  to  pay  an  extravagantly  large  reward  for  cer- 
tain forms  of  intellectual  labor,  it  does  not  therefore  follow  that 
it  would  be  obliged  to  do  so  in  the  absence  of  any  other  impor- 
tant bidder. 

There  would  always  remain  the  sick,  the  infirm,  and  the  school 
children,  whose  wants  could  be  satisfied  from  the  general  stock 
without  asking  them  to  bear  any  part  of  the  general  burden.  In 
particular,  it  would  be  well  to  teach  the  children  by  actual  ex- 
perience the  economy  and  happiness  which  arise  in  the  case  of 
those  who  are  fitly  trained  from  association  applied  to  the  direct 
satisfaction  of  wants,  as  well  as  from  association  in  the  manu- 
facture of  material  wealth.  If  we  wish  to  wean  the  children 
from  the  selfish  isolation  of  the  English  family,  from  the  worse 
than  savage  habits  produced  by  four  generations  of  capitalism, 
from  that  longing  for  excitement,  and  incapacity  for  reasonable 
enjoyment,  which  are  the  natural  results  of  workdays  spent  in  Eng- 
lish factories,  and  English  Sundays  spent  in  English  streets,  then 
we  must  give  freely  and  generously  to  our  schools.  If  this  gen- 
eration were  wise  it  would  spend  on  education  not  only  more 
than  any  other  generation  has  ever  spent  before,  but  more  than 
any  generation  would  ever  need  to  spend  again.  It  would  fill 
the  school  buildings  with  the  means  not  only  of  comfort,  but 


134 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


even  of  the  higher  luxury ; it  would  serve  the  associated  meals 
on  tables  spread  with  flowers,  in  halls  surrounded  with  beautiful 
pictures,  or  even,  as  John  Milton  proposed,  filled  with  the 
sounds  of  music ; it  would  seriously  propose  to  itself  the  ideal 
of  Ibsen,  that  every  child  should  be  brought  up  as  a nobleman. 
Unfortunately,  this  generation  is  not  wise. 

In  considering  the  degree  in  which  common  owning  of  prop- 
erty would  be  possible  among  a people  just  at  that  stage  of  in- 
dustrial and  moral  development  at  which  we  now  find  ourselves, 
it  is  expedient  to  dwell,  as  I have  dwelt,  rather  upon  the  neces- 
sary difficulties  and  limitations  of  Socialism,  than  upon  its  hopes 
of  future  development.  But  we  must  always  remember  that 
the  problems  which  Socialism  attempts  to  solve,  deal  with  con- 
ditions which  themselves  are  constantly  changing.  Just  as 
anything  like  what  we  call  Socialism  would  be  impossible  in  a 
nation  of  individualist  savages  like  the  Australian  blacks,  and 
could  not,  perhaps,  be  introduced  except  by  external  authority 
among  a people  like  the  peasants  of  Brittany,  for  whom  the 
prospect  of  absolute  property  in  any  portion  of  land,  however 
small,  is  at  once  their  strongest  pleasure  and  their  only  sufficient 
incentive  to  industry ; so  among  a people  further  advanced,  soci- 
ally and  industrially,  than  ourselves,  a social  condition  would  be 
possible  which  we  do  not  now  dare  to  work  for  or  even  try  to 
realise.  The  tentative  and  limited  Social-Democracy  which  I 
have  sketched  is  the  necessary  and  certain  step  to  that  better 
life  which  we  hope  for.  The  interests  which  each  man  has  in 
common  with  his  fellows  tend  more  and  more  to  outweigh  those 
which  are  peculiar  to  himself.  We  see  the  process  even  now 
beginning.  Already,  as  soon  as  a public  library  is  started,  the 
workman  finds  how  poor  a means  for  the  production  of  happi- 
ness are  the  few  books  on  his  own  shelf,  compared  with  the 
share  he  has  in  the  public  collection,  though  that  share  may 
have  cost  even  less  to  produce.  In  the  same  way  the  score  or 
two  of  pounds  which  a workman  may  possess  are  becoming  daily 
of  less  and  less  advantage  in  production ; so  that  the  man  who 
a few  years  ago  would  have  worked  by  himself  as  a small  capi- 
talist, goes  now  to  work  for  wages  in  some  great  business,  and 
treats  his  little  savings  as  a fund  to  provide  for  a few  months  of 
sickness  or  years  of  old  age.  He  will  soon  see  how  poor  a 
means  for  the  production  of  food  is  his  own  fire  when  compared 
with  the  public  kitchen  ; and  he  will  perhaps  at  last  not  only 


PBOPERTY  TINDER  SOCIALISM. 


135 


get  his  clothes  from  the  public  store,  but  the  delight  of  his  eyes 
from  the  public  galleries  and  theatres,  the  delight  of  his  ears 
from  the  public  opera,  and  it  may  be,  when  our  present  anarchy 
of  opinion  be  overpast,  the  refreshment  of  his  mind  from  the 
publicly  chosen  teacher.  Then  at  last  such  a life  will  be 
possible  for  all  as  not  even  the  richest  and  most  powerful  can 
live  to-day.  The  system  of  property  holding  which  we  call 
Socialism  is  not  in  itself  such  a life  any  more  than  a good 
system  of  drainage  is  health,  or  the  invention  of  printing  is 
knowledge.  Nor  indeed  is  Socialism  the  only  condition  neces- 
sary to  produce  complete  human  happiness.  Under  the  justest 
possible  social  system  we  might  still  have  to  face  all  those  vices 
and  diseases  which  are  not  the  direct  result  of  poverty  and 
over- work ; we  might  still  suffer  all  the  mental  anguish  and 
bewilderment  which  are  caused,  some  say  by  religious  belief, 
others  by  religious  doubt ; we  might  still  witness  outbursts  of 
national  hatred  and  the  degradation  and  extinction  of  weaker 
peoples ; we  might  still  make  earth  a hell  for  every  species 
except  our  own.  But  in  the  households  of  the  five  men  out  of 
six  in  England  who  live  by  weekly  wage.  Socialism  would 
indeed  be  a new  birth  of  happiness.  The  long  hours  of  work 
done  as  in  a convict  prison,  without  interest  and  without  hope ; 
the  dreary  squalor  of  their  homes ; above  all  that  grievous  un- 
certainty, that  constant  apprehension  of  undeserved  misfortune 
which  is  the  peculiar  result  of  capitalist  production  : all  this 
would  be  gone ; and  education,  refinement,  leisure,  the  very 
thought  of  which  now  maddens  them,  would  be  part  of  their 
daily  life.  Socialism  hangs  above  them  as  the  crown  hung  in 
Bunyan’s  story  above  the  man  raking  the  muck  heap  — ready 
for  them  if  they  will  but  lift  their  eyes.  And  even  to  the  few 
who  seem  to  escape  and  even  profit  by  the  misery  of  our  century. 
Socialism  offers  a new  and  nobler  life,  when  full  sympathy  with 
those  about  them,  springing  from  full  knowledge  of  their  condi- 
tion, shall  be  a source  of  happiness,  and  not,  as  now,  of  constant 
sorrow  — when  it  shall  no  longer  seem  either  folly  or  hypocrisy 
for  a man  to  work  openly  for  his  highest  ideal.  To  them  be- 
longs the  privilege  that  for  each  one  of  them  the  revolution  may 
begin  as  soon  as  he  is  ready  to  pay  the  price.  They  can  live 
as  simply  as  the  equal  rights  of  their  fellows  require  : they  can 
justify  their  lives  by  work  in  the  noblest  of  all  causes.  For 
their  reward,  if  they  desire  any,  they,  like  the  rest,  must  wait. 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


BY  ANNIE  BESANT. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  a scheme  for  a future  organisa- 
tion of  industry  may  be  constructed.  Of  these,  by  far  the 
easier  and  less  useful  is  the  sketching  of  Utopia,  an  intellectual 
gymnastic  in  which  a power  of  coherent  and  vivid  imagination 
is  the  one  desideratum.  The  Utopist  needs  no  knowledge  of 
facts ; indeed  such  a knowledge  is  a hindrance  : for  him  the 
laws  of  social  evolution  do  not  exist.  He  is  a law  unto  him- 
self ; and  his  men  and  women  are  not  the  wayward,  spasmodic, 
irregular  organisms  of  daily  life,  but  automata,  obeying  the 
strings  he  pulls.  In  a word,  he  creates,  he  does  not  construct : 
he  makes  alike  his  materials  and  the  laws  within  which  they 
work,  adapting  them  all  to  an  ideal  end.  In  describing  a new 
Jerusalem,  the  only  limits  to  its  perfection  are  the  limits  of  the 
writer’s  imagination. 

The  second  way  is  less  attractive,  less  easy,  but  more  useful. 
Starting  from  the  present  state  of  society,  it  seeks  to  discover 
the  tendencies  underlying  it ; to  trace  those  tendencies  to  their 
natural  outworking  in  institutions ; and  so  to  forecast,  not  the 
far-off  future,  but  the  next  social  stage.  It  fixes  its  gaze  on 
the  vast  changes  wrought  by  evolution,  not  the  petty  variations 
made  by  catastrophes  ; on  the  Revolutions  which  transform  so- 
ciety, not  tlie  transient  riots  which  merely  upset  thrones  and 
behead  kings.  This  second  way  I elect  to  follow  ; and  this 
paper  on  industry  under  Socialism  therefore  starts  from  William 
Clarke’s  exposition  of  the  industrial  evolution  which  has  been 
in  progress  during  tlie  last  hundred  and  fifty  years.  In  thus 
l)uilding  forward  — in  tlius  forecasting  the  transitions  through 
wliich  society  will  probably  pass,  I shall  scarcely  touch  on  the 
ideal  Social  State  that  will  one  day  exist ; and  my  sketch  must 
lay  itself  open  to  all  the  criticisms  which  may  be  levelled  against 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


137 


a society  not  ideally  perfect.  It  is  therefore  necessary  to  bear 
in  mind  that  I am  only  trying  to  work  out  changes  practicable 
among  men  and  women  as  we  know  them  ; always  seeking  to 
lay  down,  not  what  is  ideally  best,  but  what  is  possible ; always 
choosing  among  the  possible  changes  that  which  is  on  the  line 
towards  the  ideal,  and  will  render  further  approach  easier.  In 
fact  this  paper  is  an  attemiDt  to  answer  the  How  ? ” so  often 
heard  when  Socialism  is  discussed.  Large  numbers  of  people 
accept,  wholly  or  in  part,  the  Socialist  theory  : they  are  intel- 
lectually convinced  of  its  soundness  or  emotionally  attracted  by 
its  beauty  ; but  they  hesitate  to  join  in  its  propaganda,  because 
they  don’t  see  where  you  are  going  to  begin,”  or  “ don’t  see 
where  you  are  going  to  stop.”  Both  difficulties  are  disposed  of 
by  the  fact  that  we  are  not  “ going  to  begin.”  There  will  never 
be  a point  at  which  a society  crosses  from  Individualism  to  So- 
cialism. The  change  is  ever  going  forward ; and  our  society  is 
well  on  the  way  to  Socialism.  All  we  can  do  is  to  consciously 
co-operate  with  the  forces  at  work,  and  thus  render  the  transi- 
tion more  rapid  than  it  would  otherwise  be. 

The  third  Fabian  essay  shews  us  the  success  of  capitalism 
bringing  about  a position  which  is  at  once  intolerable  to  major- 
ity, and  easy  of  capture  by  them.  At  this  point  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  small  industries  has  broken  down  most  of  the 
gradations  which  used  to  exist  between  the  large  employer  and 
the  hired  laborer,  and  has  left  in  their  place  a gulf  across 
which  a few  capitalists  and  a huge  and  hungry  proletariat  face 
each  other.  The  denial  of  human  sympathy  by  the  employer 
in  his  business  relations  with  his  “ hands  ” has  taught  the 
“ hands  ” to  regard  the  employer  as  outside  the  pale  of  their 
sympathy.  The  ‘^respect  of  the  public  conscience  for  the 
rights  of  property,”  which  was  at  bottom  the  private  interest 
of  each  in  his  own  little  property,  has  diminished  since  the 
many  lost  their  individual  possessions,  and  saw  property  accu- 
mulate in  the  hands  of  the  few : it  is  now  little  more  than  a 
tradition  inherited  from  a former  social  state.  The  public 
conscience  ” will  soon  condone,  nay,  it  will  first  approve,  and 
then  demand,  the  expropriation  of  capital  which  is  used  anti- 
socially  instead  of  socially,  and  which  belongs  to  that  imper- 
sonal abstraction,  a company,  instead  of  to  our  next  door 
neighbor.  To  the  average  person  it  is  one  thing  for  the  State 
to  seize  the  little  shop  of  James  Smith  who  married  our  sister, 


138 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


or  the  thriving  business  of  our  Sam  who  works  early  and  late 
for  his  living  ;•  and  quite  another  when  James  and  Sam,  ruined 
by  a big  Company  made  up  of  shareholders  of  whom  nobody 
knows  anything  but  that  they  pay  low  wages  and  take  high 
dividends,  have  been  obliged  to  become  hired  servants  of  the 
Company,  instead  of  owning  their  own  shops  and  machinery. 
Whose  interest  will  it  be  to  protest  against  the  State  taking  over 
the  capital,  and  transforming  James  and  Sam  from  wage-slaves 
at  the  mercy  of  a foreman,  into  shareholders  and  public  func- 
tionaries, with  a voice  in  the  management  of  the  business  in 
which  they  are  employed  ? 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  the  evolution  of  the  capitalist 
system  has  proceeded  but  a little  further  along  the  present 
lines,  concentrating  the  control  of  industry,  and  increasingly 
substituting  labor-saving  machinery  for  human  beings.  It  is 
being  accompanied,  and  must  continue  to  be  accompanied,  by  a 
growth  of  the  numbers  of  the  unemployed.  These  numbers 
may  ebb  and  flow,  as  some  of  the  waves  of  a rising  tide  run 
forward  some  feet  and  then  a few  touch  a lower  level ; but  as 
the  tide  rises  despite  the  fluctuations  of  the  ripples,  so  the 
numbers  of  the  unemployed  will  increase  despite  transient 
mountings  and  fallings.  With  these,  probably,  will  begin  the 
tentative  organisation  of  industry  by  the  State  ; but  this  or- 
ganisation will  soon  be  followed  by  the  taking  over  by  the 
community  of  some  of  the  great  Trusts. 

The  division  of  the  country  into  clearly  deflned  areas,  each 
with  its  elected  authority,  is  essential  to  any  effective  scheme 
of  organisation.  It  is  one  of  the  symptoms  of  the  coming 
change,  that,  in  perfect  unconsciousness  of  the  nature  of  his 
act,  Mr.  Ritchie  has  established  the  Commune.  He  has 
divided  England  into  districts  ruled  by  County  Councils,  and 
has  thus  created  the  machinery  without  which  Socialism  was  im- 
practicable. True,  he  has  only  made  an  outline  which  needs 
to  be  filled  in  ; but  Socialists  can  fill  in,  whereas  they  had  no 
power  to  outline.  It  remains  to  give  every  adult  a vote  in  the 
election  of  Councillors ; to  shorten  their  term  of  office  to  a year  ; 
to  pay  the  Councillors,  so  that  the  public  may  have  a right  to 
the  whole  of  tlieir  working  time  ; to  give  the  Councils  power  to 
take  and  hold  land  — a reform  already  asked  for  by  the  Liberal 
and  Radical  Union,  a body  not  consciously  Socialist;  and  to 
remove  all  legal  restrictions,  so  as  to  leave  them  as  free  to  act 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


139 


corporately  as  an  individual  is  to  act  individually.  These 
measures  accomplished,  the  rapidity  with  which  our  institutions 
are  socialised,  depends  on  the  growth  of  Socialism  among  the 
people.  It  is  essential  to  the  stability  of  the  changed  forms  of 
industry  that  they  shall  be  made  by  the  people,  not  imposed 
upon  them ; hence  the  value  of  Mr.  Ritchie’s  gift  of  Local 
Government,  enabling  each  locality  to  move  swiftly  or  slowly, 
to  experiment  on  a comparatively  small  scale,  even  to  blunder 
without  widespread  disaster.  The  mot  d'ordre  for  Socialists 
now  is  Convert  the  electors ; and  capture  the  County  Coun- 
cils.” These  Councils,  administering  local  affairs,  with  the 
national  Executive,  administering  national  affairs,  are  all  des- 
tined to  be  turned  into  effective  industrial  organisers ; and  the 
unit  of  administration  must  depend  on  the  nature  of  the 
industry.  The  post,  the  telegraph,  the  railways,  the  canals, 
and  the  great  industries  capable  of  being  organised  into  Trusts, 
will,  so  far  as  we  can  see  now,  be  best  administered  each  from 
a single  centre  for  the  whole  kingdom.  Tramways,  gas-works, 
water-works,  and  many  of  the  smaller  productive  industries, 
will  be  best  managed  locally.  In  marking  the  lines  of  division, 
convenience  and  experience  must  be  our  guides.  The  demarca- 
tions are  of  expediency,  not  of  principle. 

The  first  great  problem  that  will  press  on  the  County  Coun- 
cil for  solution  will  be  that  of  the  unemployed.  Wisely  or 
unwisely,  it  will  have  to  deal  with  them  : wisely,  if  it  organises 
them  for  productive  industry  ; unwisely,  if  it  opens  “ relief 
works,”  and  tries,  like  an  enlarged  Bumble,  to  shirk  the  diffi- 
culty by  enforcing  barren  and  oppressive  toil  upon  outlawed 
wretches  at  the  expense  of  the  rest  of  the  community.  Many 
of  the  unemployed  are  unskilled  laborers  : a minority  are  skilled. 
They  must  first  be  registered  as  skilled  and  unskilled,  and  the 
former  enrolled  under  their  several  trades.  Then  can  begin  the 
rural  organisation  of  labor  on  county  farms,  held  by  the  County 
Councils.  The  Council  will  have  its  agricultural  committee, 
charged  with  the  administrative  details  ; and  this  committee 
will  choose  well-trained,  practical  agriculturists,  as  directors  of 
the  farm  business.  To  the  County  Farm  will  be  drafted  from 
the  unemployed  in  the  towns,  the  agricultural  laborers  who 
have  wandered  townwards  in  search  of  work,  and  many  of  the 
unskilled  laborers.  On  these  farms  every  advantage  of  machin- 
ery, and  every  discovery  in  agricultural  science,  should  be  util- 


140 


THE  OEGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


ised  to  the  utmost.  The  crops  should  be  carefully  chosen  with 
reference  to  soil  and  aspect  — cereals,  fruit,  vegetables  — and 
the  culture  adapted  to  the  crop,  the  one  aim  being  to  obtain  the 
largest  amount  of  produce  with  the  least  expenditure  of  human 
labor.  Whether  land  is  most  profitably  cultivated  in  large  or 
small  parcels  depends  on  the  crop  ; and  in  the  great  area  of  tlie 
County  Farm,  la  grande  et  la  petite  culture  might  each  have  its 
place.  Economy  would  also  gain  by  the  large  number  of  labor- 
ers under  the  direction  of  the  head  farmer^  since  they  could  be 
concentrated  when  required  at  any  given  spot,  as  in  harvest 
time,  and  dispersed  to  work  at  the  more  continuous  kinds  of  til- 
lage when  the  seasonal  task  was  over. 

To  these  farms  must  also  be  sent  some  skilled  laborers  from 
among  the  unemployed,  shoemakers,  tailors,  smiths,  carpenters, 
etc.  ; so  that  the  County  Farm  may  be  self-supporting  as  far  as 
it  can  be  without  waste  of  productive  power.  All  the  small 
industries  necessary  in  daily  life  should  be  carried  on  in  it,  and 
an  industrial  commune  thus  built  up.  The  democracy  might  be 
trusted  to  ordain  that  an  eight  hours’  day,  and  a comfortable 
home,  should  be  part  of  the  life-conditions  on  the  County  Farm. 
Probably  each  large  farm  would  soon  have  its  central  store,  with 
its  adjacent  railway  station,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  farm 
buildings  ; its  public  hall  in  the  centre  of  the  farm  village  to  be 
used  for  lectures,  concerts,  and  entertainments  of  all  sorts  ; its 
public  schools,  elementary  and  technical ; and  soon,  possibly 
from  the  outset,  its  public  meal-room,  saving  time  and  trouble  to 
housewives,  and,  while  economising  fuel  and  food,  giving  a far 
greater  choice  and  variety  of  dishes.  Large  dwellings,  with 
suites  of  rooms,  might  perhaps  replace  old-fashioned  cottages ; 
for  it  is  worth  noting,  as  showing  the  tendency  already  existing 
among  ourselves  to  turn  from  isolated  self-dependence  to  the 
advantages  of  associated  living,  that  many  modern  flats  are 
being  built  without  servants’  rooms,  the  house-cleaning,  etc., 
being  done  by  persons  engaged  for  the  whole  block,  and  the 
important  meals  being  taken  at  restaurants,  so  as  to  avoid  the 
trouble  and  expense  of  private  cooking.  It  will  surely  be  well 
in  initiating  new  organisations  of  industry  to  start  on  the  most 
advanced  lines,  and  take  advantage  of  every  modern  tendency 
towards  less  isolated  modes  of  living.  Socialists  must  work 
liard  to  make  municipal  dealings  witli  the  unemployed  avenues 
to  the  higlier  life,  not  grudging  utilisation  of  pauper  labor.  And 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


141 


as  they  know  their  aim,  and  the  other  political  parties  live 
but  from  hand  to  mouth,  they  ought  to  be  able  to  exercise 
a steady  and  uniform  pressure,  which,  just  because  it  is  steady 
and  uniform,  will  impress  its  direction  on  the  general  move- 
ment. 

The  note  of  urban  industrial  organisation,  as  of  all  other, 
must  be  that  each  person  shall  be  employed  to  do  what  he  can 
do  best,  not  what  he  does  worst.  It  may  be  desirable  for  a man 
to  have  two  ‘trades  ; but  watch-making  and  stone-breaking  are 
not  convenient  alternative  occupations.  Where  the  skilled 
unemployed  belong  to  trades  carried  on  everywhere,  such  as 
baking,  shoemaking,  tailoring,  etc.,  they  should  be  employed  at 
their  own  trades  in  municipal  workshops,  and  their  products 
garnered  in  municipal  stores.  These  workshops  will  be  under 
the  direction  of  foremen,  thoroughly  skilled  workmen,  able  to 
superintend  and  direct  as  though  in  private  employment.  The 
working-day  must  be  of  eight  hours,  and  the  wages,  for  the  pre- 
sent, the  Trades  Union  minimum.  Then,  instead  of  tailors  and 
shoemakers  tramping  the  streets  ragged  and  barefoot,  the  tailors 
will  be  making  clothes  and  the  shoemakers  boots  and  shoes  ; 
and  the  shoemaker  with  the  wages  he  earns  will  buy  the  tailor’s 
products,  and  the  tailor  the  shoemaker’s.  Then,  instead  of  sup- 
porting the  unemployed  by  rates  levied  on  the  employed  they 
will  be  set  to  work  to  supply  their  own  necessities,  and  be  pro- 
ducers of  the  wealth  they  consume  instead  of  consuming,  in  en- 
forced idleness  or  barren  penal  exercises  in  the  stoneyard,  the 
wealth  produced  by  others.  Masons,  bricklayers,  plumbers, 
carpenters,  etc.,  might  be  set  to  work  in  building  decent  and 
pleasant  dwellings  — in  the  style  of  the  blocks  of  flats,  not  of 
the  barracks  called  model  dwellings  — for  the  housing  of  the 
municipal  industrial  army.  I lay  stress  on  the  pleasantness  of 
the  dwellings.  These  places  are  to  be  dwellings  for  citizens,  not 
prisons  for  paupers ; and  there  is  no  possible  reason  why  they 
should  not  be  made  attractive.  Under  Socialism  the  workers 
are  to  be  the  nation,  and  all  that  is  best  is  for  their  service  ; for, 
be  it  remembered,  our  faces  are  set  towards  Socialism,  and  our 
organisation  of  labor  is  to  be  on  Socialist  lines. 

It  is  very  likely  that  among  the  unemployed  some  will  be 
found  whose  trade  can  only  be  carried  on  by  large  numbers,  and 
is  not  one  of  the  industries  of  the  town  into  which  their  unlucky 
fate  has  drifted  them.  These  should  be  sent  into  municipal 


142 


THE  OEGANIZATIOK  OF  SOCIETY. 


service  in  the  towns  where  their  trade  is  the  staple  industry, 
there  to  be  employed  in  the  municipal  factory. 

Concurrently  with  this  rural  and  urban  organisation  of  noR- 
centralised  industries  will  proceed  the  taking  over  of  the  great 
centralised  industries,  centralised  for  us  by  capitalists,  who  thus 
unconsciously  pave  the  way  for  their  own  supersession.  Every- 
thing which  has  been  organised  into  a Trust,  and  has  been 
worked  for  a time  in  the  Trust  fashion,  is  ripe  for  appropriation 
by  the  community.  All  minerals  would  be  most  properly  worked 
in  this  centralised  way ; and  it  will  probably  be  found  most  con- 
venient to  work  all  the  big  productive  industries  — such  as  the 
textile  — in  similar  fashion.  It  is  idle  to  say  that  it  cannot  be 
done  by  the  State  when  it  is  being  done  by  a ring  of  capitalists  : 
a Local  Board,  an  Iron  Board,  a Tin  Board,  can  be  as  easily  held 
responsible  to  the  nation  as  to  a casual  crowd  of  shareholders. 
There  need  be  no  dislocation  of  2:>roduction  in  making  the  trans- 
ference : the  active  organisers  and  directors  of  a Trust  do  not 
necessarily,  or  even  usually,  own  the  capital  invested  in  it.  If 
the  State  finds  it  convenient  to  hire  these  organisers  and  direc- 
tors, there  is  nothing  to  prevent  its  doing  so  for  as  long  or  as 
short  a period  as  it  chooses.  The  temporary  arrangements  made 
with  them  during  the  transition  period  must  be  governed  by  ex- 
pediency. 

Let  us  pause  for  a moment  to  estimate  the  position  so  far.  The 
unemployed  have  been  transformed  into  communal  workers  — 
in  the  country  on  great  farms,  improvements  of  the  Bonanza 
farms  in  America  — in  the  towns  in  various  trades.  Public 
stores  for  agricultural  and  industrial  products  are  open  in  all 
convenient  places,  and  filled  with  the  goods  thus  communally 
])roduced.  The  great  industries,  worked  as  Trusts,  are  controlled 
by  the  State  instead  of  by  capitalist  rings.  The  private  capital- 
ist, however,  will  still  be  in  business,  producing  and  distributing 
on  his  own  account  in  competition  with  the  communal  organi- 
sations, wliich  at  present  will  have  occupied  only  part  of  the 
industrial  field.  But  apart  from  a pressure  which  will  be  recog- 
nised when  we  come  to  deal  with  the  remuneration  of  labor, 
these  private  enterj^rises  will  be  carried  on  under  circumstances 
of  ever-increasing  difficulty.  In  face  of  the  orderly  communal 
arrays,  playing  into  eacli  other’s  hands,  with  the  credit  of  the 
country  behind  them,  the  ventures  of  the  private  capitalist  will 
be  at  as  great  a disadvantage  as  tlie  cottage  industries  of  the 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


143 


last  century  in  face  of  the  factory  industries  of  our  own  period. 
The  Trusts  have  taught  us  how  to  drive  competing  capitals  out 
of  the  market  by  associated  capitals.  The  Central  Boards  or 
County  Councils  will  be  able  to  utilise  this  power  of  association 
further  than  any  private  capitalists.  Thus  the  economic  forces 
which  replaced  the  workshop  by  the  factory,  will  replace  the 
private  shop  by  the  municipal  store  and  the  private  factory  by 
the  municipal  one.  And  the  advantages  of  greater  concentra- 
tion of  capital  and  of  the  association  of  labor  will  not  be  the 
only  ones  enjoyed  by  the  communal  workers.  All  waste  will 
be  checked,  every  labor-saving  appliance  utilised  to  the  utmost, 
where  the  object  is  the  production  of  general  wealth  and  not  the 
production  of  profit  to  be  appropriated  by  a class  ; for  in  the 
one  case  it  is  the  interest  of  the  producers  to  produce  — inasmuch 
as  their  enjoyment  depends  on  the  productivity  of  their  labor  — 
whereas  in  the  other  it  is  their  interest  to  sterilise  their  labor  as 
far  as  they  dare  in  order  to  render  more  of  it  necessary  and  so 
keep  up  its  price.  As  the  organisation  of  the  public  industry 
extends,  and  supplants  more  and  more  the  individualist  producer, 
the  probable  demand  will  be  more  easily  estimated,  and  the 
supply  regulated  to  meet  it.  The  Municipalities  and  Central 
Boards  will  take  the  place  of  the  competing  small  capitalists  and 
the  rings  of  large  ones ; and  production  will  become  ordered  and 
rational  instead  of  anarchical  and  reckless  as  it  is  to-day.  After 
awhile  the  private  producers  will  disappear,  not  because  there 
will  be  any  law  against  individualist  production,  but  because  it 
will  not  pay.  No  one  will  care  to  face  the  worries,  the  harass- 
ments,  the  anxieties,  of  individual  struggling  for  livelihood,  when 
ease,  freedom,  and  security  can  be  enjoyed  in  the  communal  ser- 
vices. 

The  best  form  of  management  during  the  transition  period, 
and  possibly  for  a long  time  to  come,  will  be  through  the  Com- 
munal Councils,  which  will  appoint  committees  to  superintend 
the  various  branches  of  industry.  These  committees  will  engage 
the  necessary  manager  and  foreman  for  each  shop,  factory,  etc., 
and  will  hold  the  power  of  dismissal  as  of  appointment.  I do 
not  believe  that  the  direct  election  of  the  manager  and  foreman 
by  the  employees  would  be  found  to  work  well  in  practice,  or  to 
be  consistent  with  the  discipline  necessary  in  carrying  on  any 
large  business  undertaking.  It  seems  to  me  better  that  the 
Commune  should  elect  its  Council  — thus  keeping  under  its  own 


144 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


control  the  general  authority  — but  should  empower  the  Council 
to  select  the  officials,  so  that  the  power  of  selection  and  dismissal 
within  the  various  sub-divisions  should  lie  with  the  nominees  of 
the  whole  Commune  instead  of  with  the  particular  group  imme- 
diately concerned. 

There  is  no  practical  difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  management 
of  the  ordinary  productive  industries,  large  or  small.  The  Trusts 
and  Co-operation  have,  between  them,  solved,  or  put  us  in  the 
way  of  solving,  all  problems  connected  with  these.  But  there 
are  difficulties  in  connexion  with  the  industries  concerned  in  the 
production  of  such  commodities  as  books  and  newspapers.  Dur- 
ing the  transitional  stage  these  difficulties  will  not  arise  ; but  when 
all  industries  are  carried  on  by  the  Commune,  or  the  Nation, 
how  will  books  and  newspapers  be  produced  ? I only  throw 
out  the  following  suggestions.  Printing,  like  baking,  tailoring, 
shoemaking,  is  a communal  rather  than  a national  industry. 
Suppose  we  had  printing  offices  controlled  by  the  Communal 
Council.  The  printing  committee  might  be  left  free  to  accept 
any  publication  it  thought  valuable,  as  a private  firm  to-day 
may  take  the  risk  of  publication,  the  arrangement  with  the 
author  being  purchase  outright,  or  royalty  on  copies  sold,  in 
each  case  so  much  to  be  put  to  his  credit  at  the  Communal  Bank. 
But  there  are  many  authors  whose  goods  are  desired  by  no  one : 
it  would  be  absurd  to  force  the  community  to  publish  all  minor 
poetry.  Why  not  accept  the  principle  that  in  every  case  where 
the  printing  committee  declines  to  print  at  the  communal  risk, 
the  author  may  have  his  work  printed  by  transferring  from  his 
credit  at  the  Communal  Bank  to  the  account  of  the  printing 
committee  sufficient  to  cover  the  cost  of  printing  ? The  com- 
mittee should  have  no  power  to  refuse  to  print,  where  the  cost 
was  covered.  Thus  liberty  of  expression  would  be  guarded  as 
a constitutional  right,  while  the  community  would  not  be  charged 
with  the  cost  of  printing  every  stupid  effusion  that  its  fond  com- 
poser might  deem  worthy  of  publicity. 

Newspapers  might  be  issued  on  similar  terms  ; and  it  would 
always  be  open  to  individuals,  or  to  groups  of  individuals,  to 
publish  anytliing  they  pleased  on  covering  the  cost  of  publica- 
tion. With  the  comparative  affluence  which  would  be  enjoyed 
by  each  member  of  the  community,  anyone  wffio  really  cared  to 
reach  the  public  ear  would  be  able  to  do  so  by  diminishing  his 
expenditure  in  other  directions. 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


145 


Another  difficulty  which  will  meet  us  although  not  imme- 
diately, is  the  competition  for  employment  in  certain  pleasanter 
branches  of  industry.  At  present  an  unemployed  person  would 
catch  eagerly  at  the  chance  of  any  well-paid  work  he  was  able 
to  perform.  If  he  were  able  both  to  set  type  and  to  stitch 
coats,  he  would  not  dream  of  grumbling  if  he  were  by  chance 
offered  the  job  he  liked  the  less  of  the  two : he  would  be  only 
too  glad  to  get  either.  But  it  is  quite  possible  that  as  the  vast 
amelioration  of  life-conditions  proceeds,  Jeshurun  will  wax  fat 
and  kick  if,  when  he  prefers  to  make  microscopic  lenses,  he  is 
desired  to  make  mirrors.  Under  these  circumstances,  Jeshurun 
will,  I fear,  have  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  demand.  If 
the  number  of  people  engaged  in  making  lenses  suffices  to  meet 
the  demand  for  lenses,  Jeshurun  must  consent  to  turn  his  talents 
for  the  time  to  mirror-making.  After  all,  his  state  will  not  be 
very  pitiable,  though  Socialism  will  have  failed,  it  is  true,  to 
make  2-\-2—5, 

This,  however,  hardly  solves  the  general  question  as  to  the 
apportioning  of  laborers  to  the  various  forms  of  labor.  But  a 
solution  has  been  found  by  the  ingenious  author  of  “ Looking 
Backward,  from  a.d.  2000.”  Leaving  young  men  and  women 
free  to  choose  their  employments,  he  would  equalise  the  rates 
of  volunteering  by  equalising  the  attractions  of  the  trades. 
In  many  cases  natural  bent,  left  free  to  develop  itself  during 
a lengthened  educational  term,  will  determine  the  choice  of 
avocation.  Human  beings  are  fortunately  very  varied  in 
their  capacities  and  tastes ; that  which  attracts  one  repels 
another.  But  there  are  unpleasant  and  indispensable  forms  of 
labor  which,  one  would  imagine,  can  attract  none  — mining, 
sewer-cleaning,  &c.  These  might  be  rendered  attractive  by 
making  the  hours  of  labor  in  them  much  shorter  than  the  nor- 
mal working  day  of  pleasanter  occupations.  Many  a strong, 
vigorous  man  would  greatly  prefer  a short  spell  of  disagreeable 
work  to  a long  one  at  a desk.  As  it  is  w^ell  to  leave  the  great- 
est possible  freedom  to  the  individual,  this  equalising  of  advan- 
tages in  all  trades  would  be  far  better  than  any  atfempt  to 
perform  the  impossible  task  of  choosing  an  employment  for 
each.  A person  would  be  sure  to  hate  any  work  into  which  he 
was  directly  forced,  even  though  it  were  the  very  one  he  would 
have  chosen  had  he  been  left  to  himself. 

Further,  much  of  the  most  disagreeable  and  laborious  work 


146 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


might  be  done  by  machinery,  as  it  would  be  now  if  it  were  not 
cheaper  to  exploit  a helot  class.  When  it  became  illegal  to 
send  small  boys  up  chimneys,  chimneys  did  not  cease  to  be  ' 
swept:  a machine  was  invented  for  sweeping  them.  Coal- 
cutting might  now  be  done  by  machinery,  instead  of  by  a man 
lying  on  his  back,  picking  away  over  his  head  at  the  imminent 
risk  of  his  own  life ; but  the  machine  is  much  dearer  than  men, 
so  the  miners  continue  to  have  their  chests  crushed  in  by  the 
falling  coal.  Under  Socialism  men’s  lives  and  limbs  will  be 
more  valuable  than  machinery ; and  science  will  be  tasked  to 
substitute  the  one  for  the  other. 

In  truth  the  extension  of  machinery  is  very  likely  to  solve 
many  of  the  problems  connected  with  differential  advantages  in 
employment ; and  it  seems  certain  that,  in  the  very  near  future, 
the  skilled  worker  will  not  be  the  man  who  is  able  to  perform  a 
particular  set  of  operations,  but  the  man  who  has  been  trained 
in  the  use  of  machinery.  The  difference  of  trade  will  be  in  the 
machine  rather  than  in  the  man : whether  the  produce  is  nails 
or  screws,  boots  or  coats,  cloth  or  silk,  paper-folding  or  type- 
setting, will  depend  on  the  internal  arrangements  of  the  me- 
chanism and  not  on  the  method  of  applying  the  force.  What 
we  shall  probably  do  will  be  to  instruct  all  our  youth  in  the 
principles  of  mechanics  and  in  the  handling  of  machines ; the 
machines  will  be  constructed  so  as  to  turn  the  force  into  the 
various  channels  required  to  produce  the  various  articles  ; and 
the  skilled  workman  will  be  the  skilled  mechanic^  not  the  skilled 
printer  or  bootmaker.  At  the  present  time  a few  hours’  or  a 
few  days’  study  will  make  the  trained  mechanician  master  of 
any  macliine  you  can  place  before  him.  The  line  of  progress  is 
to  substitute  machines  for  men  in  every  department  of  produc- 
tion : let  the  brain  plan,  guide,  control ; but  let  iron  and  steel, 
steam  and  electricity,  that  do  not  tire  and  cannot  be  brutalised, 
do  the  whole  of  the  heavy  toil  that  exhausts  human  frames  to- 
day. There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  suppose  that  we  are 
at  the  end  of  an  inventive  era.  Rather  are  we  only  just  be- 
ginning to  grope  after  the  uses  of  electricity : and  machinery 
has  before  it  possibilities  almost  undreamed  of  now,  the  men 
produced  by  our  system  being  too  rough-handed  for  the  manip- 
ulation of  delicate  and  complicated  contrivances.  T suggest 
this  only  as  a probable  simplification  of  balancing  the  supply 
and  demand  in  various  forms  of  labor  in  the  future  : our  imme- 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


147 


diate  method  of  regulation  must  be  the  equalising  of  advantages 
in  them. 

One  may  guess  that  in  each  nation  all  the  Boards  and  com- 
munal authorities  will  ultimately  be  represented  in  some  central 
Executive,  or  Industrial  Ministry ; that  tlie  Minister  of  Agri- 
culture, of  Mineral  Industries,  of  Textile  Industries,  and  so  on, 
will  have  relations  with  similar  officers  in  other  lands  ; and  that 
thus,  internationally  as  well  as  nationally,  co-operation  will  re- 
place competition.  But  that  end  is  not  yet. 

We  now  approach  a yet  more  thorny  subject  than  the  organi- 
sation of  the  workers.  What  should  be  the  remuneration  of 
labor  — what  the  share  of  the  product  taken  respectively  by  the 
individual,  the  municipality,  and  the  State  ? 

The  answer  depends  on  the  answer  to  a previous  question. 
Is  the  organisation  of  the  unemployed  to  be  undertaken  in 
order  to  transform  them  into  self-supporting,  self-respecting 
citizens  ; or  is  it  to  be  carried  on  as  a form  of  exploitation, 
utilising  pauper  labor  for  the  production  of  profit  for  non- 
paupers ? The  whole  matter  turns  on  this  point ; and  unless 
we  know  our  own  minds,  and  fight  for  the  right  method  and 
against  the  wrong  from  the  very  beginning,  the  organisation  of 
the  unemployed  will  be  a buttress  for  the  present  system  instead 
of  a step  towards  a better.  Already  there  is  talk  of  establishing 
labor  colonies  in  connexion  with  workhouses  ; and  there  is  no 
time  to  be  lost  if  we  are  to  take  advantage  of  the  good  in  the 
proposal  and  exclude  the  bad.  The  County  Councils  also  will 
lead  to  an  increase  of  municipal  employment ; and  the  method 
of  that  employment  is  vital. 

Tlie  ordinary  vestryman,  driven  by  the  force  of  circumstances 
into  organising  the  unemployed,  will  try  to  extract  a profit  to 
the  ratepayers  from  pauper  farms  by  paying  the  lowest  rates  of 
wages.  He  would  find  this  way  of  proceeding  very  congenial, 
and  would  soon,  if  permitted,  simply  municipalise  slave-driving. 
In  this  way  the  municipal  and  rural  organisation  of  labor,  even 
when  its  necessity  and  its  advantages  are  realised,  can  do 
nothing  but  change  the  form  of  exploitation  of  labor  if  the 
workers  in  public  employ  are  to  be  paid  a wage  fixed  by  the 
competition  of  the  market,  and  the  profits  of  their  labor  used 
only  for  the  relief  of  the  rates.  Under  such  circumstances  we 
should  have  the  whole  of  the  rates  paid  by  the  communal 
workers,  while  the  private  employers  would  go  free.  This 


148 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


would  not  be  a transition  to  Socialism,  but  only  a new  way  of 
creating  a class  of  municipal  serfs,  which  would  make  our 
towns  burlesques  of  the  ancient  Greek  slaveholdirig  ‘'demo- 
cracies.” We  shall  find  surer  ground  by  recalling  and  applying 
the  principle  of  Socialism  that  the  laborers  shall  enjoy  the  full 
product  of  their  toil.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  might  be  worked 
out  somewhat  in  the  following  way : 

Out  of  the  value  of  the  communal  produce  must  come  rent  of 
land  payable  to  the  local  authority,  rent  of  plant  needed  for 
working  the  industries,  wages  advanced  and  fixed  in  the  usual 
way,  taxes,  reserve  fund,  accumulation  fund,  and  the  other 
charges  necessary  for  the  carrying  on  of  the  communal  business. 
All  thes-e  deducted,  the  remaining  value  should  be  divided 
among  the  communal  workers  as  a “bonus.”  It  would  be  ob- 
viously inconvenient,  if  not  impossible,  for  the  district  authority 
to  sub-divide  this  value  and  allot  so  much  to  each  of  its  sepa- 
rate undertakings  — so  much  left  over  from  gas  works  for 
the  men  employed  there,  so  much  from  the  tramways  for  the 
men  employed  on  them,  and  so  on.  It  would  be  far  simpler  and 
easier  for  the  municipal  employees  to.  be  regarded  as  a single 
body,  in  the  service  of  a single  employer,  the  local  authority ; 
and  that  the  surplus  from  the  whole  of  the  businesses  carried  on 
by  the  Communal  Council  should  be  divided  without  distinction 
among  the  whole  of  the  communal  employees.  Controversy  will 
probably  arise  as  to  the  division : shall  all  the  shares  be  equal ; 
or  shall  the  workers  receive  in  proportion  to  the  supposed  dignity 
or  indignity  of  their  work?  Inequality,  however,  would  be 
odious;  and  I have  already  suggested  (p.  145)  a means  of  ad- 
justing different  kinds  of  labor  to  a system  of  equal  division  of 
net  })roduct.  This  meets  the  difficulty  of  the  varying  degrees 
of  irksomeness  without  invidiously  setting  up  any  kind  of  soci- 
ally useful  labor  as  more  honorable  than  any  other  — a distinc- 
tion essentially  unsocial  and  pernicious.  But  since  in  public 
affairs  ethics  are  apt  to  go  to  the  wall,  and  appeals  to  social 
justice  too  often  fall  on  deaf  ears,  it  is  lucky  that  in  this  case 
ethics  and  convenience  coincide.  The  impossibility  of  estimat- 
ing the  separate  value  of  each  man’s  labor  with  any  really  valid 
result,  the  friction  which  would  arise,  the  jealousies  which 
woukl  be  provoked,  the  inevitable  discontent,  favoritism  and 
jobbery  that  would  prevail : all  these  things  will  drive  the 
Communal  Council  into  the  right  path,  equal  remuneration  of 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


149 


all  workers.  That  path  once  entered  on,  tlie  princi[)le  of  simpli- 
fication will  spread  ; and  presently  it  will  probably  be  found 
convenient  that  all  the  Communal  Councils  shall  send  in  tlieir 
reports  to  a Central  Board,  stating  the  number  of  their  em- 
ployees, the  amount  of  the  values  produced,  the  deductions  for 
rent  and  other  charges,  and  their  available  surplus.  All  these 
surpluses  added  together  would  then  be  divided  by  the  total 
number  of  communal  employees,  and  the  sum  thus  reached 
would  be  the  share  of  each  worker.  The  national  trusts  would 
at  first  be  worked  separately  on  lines  analogous  to  those  sketched 
for  the  Communes  ; but  later  these  would  be  lumped  in  with  the 
rest,  and  still  further  equalise  the  reward  of  labor.  As  private 
enterprises  dwindle,  more  and  more  of  the  workers  will  pass 
into  communal  employ,  until  at  last  the  Socialist  ideal  is  touched 
of  a nation  in  which  all  adults  are  workers,  and  all  share  the 
national  product.  But  be  it  noted  that  all  this  grows  out  of 
the  first  organisation  of  industry  by  Municipalities  and  County 
Councils,  and  will  evolve  just  as  fast  or  just  as  slowly  as  the 
community  and  its  sections  choose.  The  values  dealt  with, 
and  the  numbers  employed  at  first,  would  not  imply  as  much 
complexity  of  detail  as  is  involved  in  many  of  the  great  busi- 
nesses now  carried  on  by  individuals  and  by  companies.  The 
same  brains  will  be  available  for  the  work  as  are  now  hired  by 
individuals  ; and  it  is  rather  the  novelty  of  the  idea  than  the 
difficulty  of  its  realisation  which  will  stand  in  the  way  of  its 
acceptance. 

It  is  probable,  however,  tnat  for  some  time  to  come,  the 
captains  of  industry  will  be  more  highly  paid  than  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  industrial  army,  not  because  it  is  just  that  they  should 
receive  higher  remuneration,  but  because  they,  having  still  the 
alternative  of  private  enterprise,  will  be  able  to  demand  their 
ordinary  terms,  at  which  it  will  pay  the  community  better  to 
engage  them  than  to  do  without  them  — which  would  be  indeed 
impossible.  But  their  remuneration  will  fall  as  education 
spreads : their  present  value  is  a scarcity  value,  largely  depend- 
ent on  their  monopoly  of  the  higher  education;  and  as  the 
wider  training  is  thrown  open  to  all,  an  eveiMiicreasing  number 
will  become  qualified  to  act  as  organisers  and  directors. 

The  form  in  which  the  worker’s  share  is  paid  to  him  is  not  a 
matter  of  primary  importance.  It  would  probably  be  conven- 
ient to  have  Communal  Banks,  issuing  cheques  like  those  of  the 


150 


THE  OKGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


Che(iue  Bank;  and  these  banks  could  open  credits  to  the 
workers  to  the  amount  of  their  remuneration.  The  way  in 
which  each  worker  expended  his  wealth  would  of  course  be  his 
own  business. 

The  above  method  of  dealing  with  the  surplus  remaining  from 
communal  labor  after  rent  and  other  charges  had  been  paid  to 
tiie  Municipality,  would  prove  the  most  potent  factor  in  the 
supersession  of  private  enterprises.  The  amounts  produced  by 
the  communal  organisations  would  exceed  those  produced  under 
individualist  control ; but  even  if  this  were  not  so,  yet  the  shares 
of  the  communal  workers,  as  they  would  include  the  produce 
now  consumed  by  idlers,  would  be  higher  than  any  wage  which 
could  be  paid  by  the  private  employer.  Hence  competition  to 
enter  the  communal  service,  and  a constant  pressure  on  the 
Communal  Councils  to  enlarge  their  undertakings. 

It  should  be  added  that  children  and  workers  incapacitated  by 
age  or  sickness  should  receive  an  equal  share  with  the  communal 
employees.  As  all  have  been  children,  are  at  times  sick,  and 
hope  to  live  to  old  age,  all  in  turn  would  share  the  advantage  ; 
and  it  is  only  just  that  those  who  have  labored  honestly  in 
health  and  through  maturity  should  enjoy  the  reward  of  labor 
in  sickness  and  through  old  age. 

The  shares  of  individuals  and  of  Municipalities  being  thus 
apportioned,  there  remains  only  a word  to  say  as  to  the 
Central  National  Council  — the  ‘SState”^ar  excellence.  This 
would  derive  the  revenues  necessary  for  the  discharge  of  its 
functions,  from  contributions  levied  on  the  Communal  Councils. 
It  is  evident  that  in  the  adjustment  of  these  contributions  could 
be  effected  the  “ nationalisation  ” of  any  special  natural  re- 
sources, such  as  mines,  harbors,  &c.,  enjoyed  by  exceptionally 
well  situated  Communes.  The  levy  would  be,  in  fact,  of  the 
nature  of  an  income  tax. 

Such  a plan  of  Distribution  — especially  that  part  of  it  which 
equalises  the  shares  in  the  product  — is  likely  to  provoke  the 
question : “ What  will  be  the  stimulus  to  labor  under  the 
proposed  system  ? Will  not  the  idle  evade  their  fair  share  of 
labor,  and  live  in  clover  on  the  industry  of  their  neighbors  ? ” 

The  general  stimulus  to  labor  will  be,  in  the  first  place,  then 
as  now,  the  starvation  which  would  follow  the  cessation  of 
labor.  Until  we  discover  tlie  country  in  which  jam-rolls  grow 
on  bushes,  and  roasted  sucking-pigs  run  about  crying  “ Come 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


151 


eat  me  ! ” we  are  under  an  imperious  necessity  to  produce. 
We  shall  work  because,  on  the  whole,  we  prefer  work  to  starva- 
tion. In  the  transition  to  Socialism,  when  the  organisation  of 
labor  by  the  Communal  Councils  begins,  the  performance  of 
work  will  be  the  condition  of  employment ; and  as  non-employ 
ment  will  mean  starvation  — for  when  work  is  offered,  no  relief 
of  any  kind  need  be  given  to  the  healthy  adult  who  refuses  to 
perform  it  — the  strongest  possible  stimulus  will  force  men  to 
work.  In  fact,  work  or  starve  ’’  will  be  the  alternative  set 
before  each  communal  employee ; and  as  men  now  prefer  long- 
continued  and  ill-paid  work  to  starvation,  they  will  certainly, 
unless  human  nature  be  entirely  changed,  prefer  short  and 
well-paid  work  to  starvation.  The  individual  shirker  will  be 
dealt  with  much  as  he  is  to-day  : he  will  be  warned,  and,  if  he 
prove  incorrigibly  idle,  discharged  from  the  communal  employ. 
The  vast  majority  of  men  now  seek  to  retain  their  employment 
by  a reasonable  discharge  of  their  duty  : why  should  they  not 
do  the  same  when  the  employment  is  on  easier  conditions  ? At 
first,  discharge  would  mean  being  flung  back  into  the  whirlpool 
of  competition,  a fate  not  lightly  to  be  challenged.  Later,  as 
the  private  enterprises  succumbed  to  the  competition  of  the 
Commune,  it  would  mean  almost  hopelessness  of  obtaining  a 
livelihood.  When  social  reorganisation  is  complete,  it  would 
mean  absolute  starvation.  And  as  the  starvation  would  be 
deliberately  incurred  and  voluntarily  undergone,  it  would  meet 
with  no  sympathy  and  no  relief. 

The  next  stimulus  would  be  the  appetite  of  the  worker  for 
the  result  of  the  communal  toil,  and  the  determination  of  his 
fellow- workers  to  make  him  take  his  fair  share  of  the  work  of 
producing  it.  It  is  found  at  the  present  time  that  a very  small 
share  of  the  profits  arising  from  associated  labor  acts  as  a tre- 
mendous stimulus  to  each  individual  producer.  Firms  which 
allot  a part  of  their  profits  for  division  among  their  employees, 
find  the  plan  profitable  to  themselves.  The  men  work  eagerly 
to  increase  the  common  product,  knowing  that  each  will  have  a 
larger  bonus  as  the  common  product  is  larger  : they  become 
vigilant  as  to  waste  in  production  ; they  take  care  of  the 
machinery  ; they  save  gas,  etc.  In  a word,  they  lessen  the  cost 
as  much  as  they  can,  because  each  saving  means  gain  to  them. 
We  see  from  the  experiments  of  Leclaire  and  Godin  that  in- 
ventiveness also  is  stimulated  by  a share  in  the  common  pro- 


152 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OP  SOCIETY. 


duce.  The  workers  in  these  businesses  are  ever  trying  to  dis- 
cover better  methods  to  improve  their  machinery,  in  a word  to 
progress,  since  each  step  forward  brings  improvement  of  their 
lot.  Inventions  come  from  a desire  to  save  trouble,  as  well  as 
from  the  impulse  of  inventive  genius,  the  joy  in  accomplishing 
an  intellectual  triumph,  and  the  delight  of  serving  the  race. 
Small  inventions  are  continually  being  made  by  clever  work- 
men to  facilitate  their  operations,  even  when  they  are  not 
themselves  personally  gainers  by  them  ; and  there  is  no  reason 
to  fear  that  this  spontaneous  exercise  of  inventiveness  will 
cease  when  the  added  productivity  of  labor  lightens  the  task  or 
increases  the  liarvest  of  the  laborer.  Is  it  to  be  argued  that 
men  will  be  industrious,  careful,  and  inventive  when  they  get 
only  a fraction  of  the  result  of  their  associated  labor,  but  will 
plunge  into  sloth,  recklessness  and  stagnation  when  they  get 
the  whole  ? that  a little  gain  stimulates,  but  any  gain  short  of 
complete  satisfaction  would  paralyse  ? If  there  is  one  vice 
more  certain  than  another  to  be  unpopular  in  a Socialistic  com- 
munity, it  is  laziness.  The  man  who  shirked  would  find  his 
mates  making  his  position  intolerable,  even  before  he  suffered 
the  doom  of  expulsion. 

But  while  these  compelling  motives  will  be  potent  in  their 
action  on  man  as  he  now  is,  there  are  others,  already  acting  on 
some  men,  which  will  one  day  act  on  all  men.  Human  beings 
are  not  the  simple  and  onesided  organisms  they  appear  to  the 
superficial  glance  of  the  Individualist  — moved  only  by  a single 
motive,  the  desire  for  pecuniary  gain  — by  one  longing,  the 
longing  for  wealth.  Under  our  present  social  system,  the  strug- 
gle for  riches  assumes  an  abnormal  and  artificial  development : 
riclies  mean  nearly  all  that  makes  life  worth  having,  security 
against  starvation,  gratification  of  taste,  enjoyment  of  pleasant 
and  cultured  society,  superiority  to  many  temptations,  self-re- 
spect, consideration,  comfort,  knowledge,  freedom,  as  far  as 
these  things  are  attainable  under  existing  conditions.  In  a 
society  where  poverty  means  social  discredit,  where  misfortune 
is  treated  as  a crime,  where  the  prison  of  the  workhouse  is  a 
guerdon  of  failure,  and  the  bitter  carking  harassment  of  daily 
wants  unmet  by  daily  supply  is  ever  hanging  over  the  head  of 
each  worker,  what  wonder  that  money  seems  the  one  thing 
needful,  and  that  every  other  thought  is  lost  in  the  frensied 
rush  to  escape  all  that  is  summed  up  in  the  one  word  Poverty? 


INDUSTRY  UNDER  SOCIALISM. 


153 


But  this  abnormal  development  of  tlie  gold-hunger  would 
disappear  upon  the  certainty  for  eacli  of  the  means  of  subsis- 
tence. Let  each  individual  feel  absolutely  secure  of  subsistence, 
let  every  anxiety  as  to  the  material  wants  of  his  future  be  swept 
away  ; and  the  longing  for  wealth  will  lose  its  leverage.  The 
daily  bread  being  certain,  the  tyranny  of  pecuniary  gain  will  be 
broken  ; and  life  will  begin  to  be  used  in  living  and  not  in 
struggling  for  the  chance  to  live.  Then  will  come  to  the 
front  all  those  multifarious  motives  which  are  at  work  in  the 
complex  human  organism  even  now,  and  which  will  assume 
their  proper  importance  when  the  basis  of  physical  life  is 
assured.  The  desire  to  excel,  the  joy  in  creative  work,  the 
longing  to  improve,  the  eagerness  to  win  social  approval,  the 
instinct  of  benevolence ; all  these  will  start  into  full  life,  and 
will  serve  at  once  as  the  stimulus  to  labor  and  the  reward  of 
excellence.  It  is  instructive  to  notice  that  these  very  forces 
may  already  be  seen  at  work  in  every  case  in  which  subsistence 
is  secured,  and  they  alone  supply  the  stimulus  to  action.  The 
soldier’s  subsistence  is  certain,  and  does  not  depend  on  his  exer- 
tions. At  once  he  becomes  susceptible  to  appeals  to  his  patri- 
otism, to  his  esprit  de  corps,  to  the  honor  of  his  flag ; he  will 
dare  anything  for  glory,  and  value  a bit  of  bronze,  which  is  the 
“ reward  of  valor,”  far  more  than  a hundred  times  its  weight  in 
gold.  Yet  many  of  the  private  soldiers  come  from  the  worst  of 
the  population ; and  military  glory  and  success  in  murder  are 
but  poor  objects  to  aim  at.  If  so  much  can  be  done  under  cir- 
cumstances so  unpromising,  what  may  we  not  hope  from  nobler 
aspirations  ? Or  take  the  eagerness,  self-denial,  and  strenuous 
effort,  thrown  by  young  men  into  their  mere  games  ! The  desire 
to  be  captain  of  the  Oxford  eleven,  stroke  of  the  Cambridge 
boat,  victor  in  the  foot-race  or  the  leaping,  in  a word,  the  desire 
to  excel,  is  strong  enough  to  impel  to  exertions  which  often 
ruin  physical  health.  Everywhere  we  see  the  multiform  desires 
of  humanity  assert  themselves  when  once  livelihood  is  secure. 
It  is  on  the  devotion  of  these  to  the  service  of  Society,  as  the 
development  of  the  social  instincts  teaches  men  to  identify 
their  interests  with  those  of  the  community,  that  Socialism 
must  ultimately  rely  for  progress  ; but  in  saying  this  we  are 
only  saying  that  Socialism  relies  for  progress  on  human  nature 
as  a whole,  instead  of  on  that  mere  fragment  of  it  known  as 
the  desire  for  gain.  If  human  nature  should  break  down,  then 


164 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY. 


Socialism  will  break  down  ; but  at  least  we  have  a hundred 
strings  to  our  Socialist  bow,  while  the  Individualist  has  only 
one. 

But  Humanity  will  not  break  down.  The  faith  which  is 
built  on  it  is  faith  founded  on  a rock.  Under  healthier  and 
happier  conditions,  Humanity  will  rise  to  heights  undreamed  of 
now ; and  the  most  exquisite  Utopias,  as  sung  by  the  poet  and 
idealist,  shall,  to  our  children,  seem  but  dim  and  broken  lights 
compared  with  their  perfect  day.  All  that  we  need  are  cour- 
age, prudence,  and  faith.  Faith,  above  all,  which  dares  to  be- 
lieve that  justice  and  love  are  not  impossible  ; and  that  more 
than  the  best  that  man  can  dream  of  shall  one  day  be  realised 
by  men. 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


TRANSITION.! 


BY  G.  BERNARD  SHAW, 

When  the  British  Association  honored  me  by  an  invitation  to 
take  part  in  its  proceedings,  I proposed  to  do  so  by  reading  a 
paper  entitled  Finishing  the  Transition  to  Social  Democracy.” 
The  word  “ finishing  ” has  been,  on  consideration,  dropped.  In 
modern  use  it  has  gathered  a certain  sudden  and  sinister  sense 
which  I desire  carefully  to  dissociate  from  the  process  to  be 
described.  I suggested  it  in  the  first  instance  only  to  convey 
in  the  shortest  way  that  we  are  in  the  middle  of  the  transition 
instead  of  shrinking  from  the  beginning  of  it ; and  that  I pro- 
pose to  deal  with  the  part  of  it  that  lies  before  us  rather  than 
that  which  we  have  already  accomplished.  Therefore,  though 
I shall  begin  at  the  beginning,  I shall  make  no  apology  for 
traversing  centuries  by  leaps  and  bounds  at  the  risk  of  sacri- 
ficing the  dignity  of  history  to  the  necessity  for  coming  to  the 
point  as  soon  as  possible. 

Briefly,  then,  let  us  commence  by  glancing  at  the  Middle 
Ages.  There  you  find,  theoretically,  a much  more  orderly 
England  than  the  England  of  to-day.  Agriculture  is  organised 
on  an  intelligible  and  consistent  system  in  the  feudal  manor  or 
commune  ; handicraft  is  ordered  by  the  guilds  of  the  towns. 
Every  man  has  his  class,  and  every  class  its  duties.  Payments 
and  privileges  are  fixed  by  law  and  custom,  sanctioned  by  the 
moral  sense  of  the  community,  and  revised  by  the  light  of  that 
moral  sense  whenever  the  operation  of  supply  and  demand  dis- 
turbs their  adjustment.  Liberty  and  Equality  are  unheard  of ; 
but  so  is  Free  Competition.  The  law  does  not  suffer  a laborer’s 
wife  to  wear  a silver  girdle  ; neither  does  it  force  her  to  work 
sixteen  hours  a day  for  the  value  of  a modern  shilling.  No- 

1 An  address  delivered  on  the  7th  September,  1888,  to  the  Economic 
Section  of  the  British  Association  at  Bath, 


158 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


body  entertains  the  idea  that  the  individual  has  any  right  to 
trade  as  he  pleases  without  reference  to  the  rest.  When  the 
townsfolk,  for  instance,  form  a market,  they  quite  understand 
that  they  have  not  taken  that  trouble  in  order  to  enable  specu- 
lators to  make  money.  If  they  catch  a man  buying  goods 
solely  in  order  to  sell  them  a few  hours  later  at  a higher  price, 
they  treat  that  man  as  a rascal ; and  he  never,  as  far  as  I have 
been  able  to  ascertain,  ventures  to  plead  that  it  is  socially 
beneficent,  and  indeed  a pious  duty,  to  buy  in  the  cheapest 
market  and  sell  in  the  dearest.  If  he  did,  they  would  probably 
burn  him  alive,  not  altogether  inexcusably.  As  to  Protection, 
it  comes  naturally  to  them. 

This  Social  Order,  relics  of  which  are  still  to  be  found  in  all 
directions,  did  not  collapse  because  it  was  unjust  or  absurd.  It 
was  burst  by  the  growth  of  the  social  organism.  Its  machinery 
was  too  primitive,  and  its  administration  too  naive,  too  personal, 
too  meddlesome  to  cope  with  anything  more  complex  than  a 
group  of  industrially  independent  communes,  centralised  very 
loosely,  if  at  all,  for  purely  political  purposes.  Industrial  rela- 
tion with  other  countries  were  beyond  its  comprehension.  Its 
grasp  of  the  obligations  of  interparochial  morality  was  none  of 
the  surest:  of  international  morality  it  had  no  notion.  A 
Frenchman  or  a Scotchman  was  a natural  enemy:  a Muscovite 
was  a foreign  devil : the  relationship  of  a negro  to  the  human 
race  was  far  more  distant  than  that  of  a gorilla  is  now  admitted 
to  be.  Thus,  when  the  discovery  of  the  New  World  began 
that  economic  revolution  which  changed  every  manufacturing 
town  into  a mere  booth  in  the  world’s  fair,  and  quite  altered 
the  immediate  objects  and  views  of  producers,  English  ad- 
venturers took  to  the  sea  in  a frame  of  mind  peculiarly  favorable 
to  commercial  success.  They  were  unaffectedly  pious,  and  had 
the  force  of  character  which  is  only  possible  to  men  who  are 
founded  on  convictions.  At  the  same  time,  they  regarded  piracy 
as  a brave  and  patriotic  pursuit,  and  the  slave  trade  as  a per- 
fectly honest  branch  of  commerce,  adventurous  enough  to  be 
consistent  with  the  honor  of  a gentleman,  and  lucrative  enough 
to  make  it  well  worth  the  risk.  When  they  stole  the  cargo  of  a 
foreign  ship,  or  made  a heavy  profit  on  a batch  of  slaves,  they 
regarded  their  success  as  a direct  proof  of  divine  protection. 
Tlie  owners  of  accumulated  wealth  hastened  to  venture  ” their 
capital  with  these  men.  Persons  of  all  the  richer  degrees,  from 


TRANSITION’. 


159 


Queen  Elizabeth  downward,  took  shares  in  the  voyages  of  the 
merchant  adventurers.  The  returns  justified  their  boldness ; 
and  the  foundation  of  the  industrial  greatness  and  the  industrial 
shame  of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  was  laid  ; 
modern  Capitalism  thus  arising  in  enterprises  for  which  men  are 
now,  by  civilised  nations,  hung  or  shot  as  human  vermin.  And 
it  is  curious  to  see  still,  in  the  commercial  adventurers  of  our 
own  time,  the  same  incongruous  combination  of  piety  and  recti- 
tude with  the  most  unscrupulous  and  revolting  villainy.  We 
all  know  the  merchant  princes  whose  enterprise,  whose  steady 
perseverance,  whose  high  personal  honor,  blameless  family  re- 
lations, large  charities,  and  liberal  endowment  of  public  institu- 
tions mark  them  out  as  very  pillars  of  society ; and  who  are 
nevertheless  grinding  their  wealth  out  of  the  labor  of  women 
and  children  with  such  murderous  rapacity  that  they  have  to 
hand  over  the  poorest  of  their  victims  to  sweaters  whose  sole 
special  function  is  the  evasion  of  the  Factory  Acts.  They 
have,  in  fact,  no  more  sense  of  social  solidarity  with  the  wage- 
workers than  Drake  had  with  the  Spaniards  or  negroes. 

With  the  rise  of  foreign  trade  and  Capitalism,  industry  so  far 
outgrew  the  control,  not  merely  of  the  individual,  but  of  the 
village,  the  guild,  the  municipality,  and  even  the  central  govern- 
ment, that  it  seemed  as  if  all  attempt  at  regulation  must  be 
abandoned.  Every  law  made  for  the  better  ordering  of  busi- 
ness either  did  not  work  at  all,  or  worked  only  as  a monopoly 
enforced  by  exasperating  official  meddling,  directly  injuring  the 
general  interest,  and  reacting  disastrously  on  the  particular 
interest  it  was  intended  to  protect.  The  laws,  too,  had  ceased 
to  be  even  honestly  intended,  owing  to  the  seizure  of  political 
power  by  the  capitalist  classes,  which  had  been  prodigiously 
enriched  by  the  operation  of  economic  laws  which  were  not  then 
understood.^  Matters  reached  a position  in  which  legislation 
and  regulation  were  so  mischievous  and  corrupt,  that  anarchy 
became  the  ideal  of  all  progressive  thinkers  and  practical  men. 
The  intellectual  revolt  formally  inaugurated  by  the  Reformation 
was  reinforced  in  the  eighteenth  century  by  the  great  industrial 
revolution  which  began  with  the  utilisation  of  steam  and  the 
invention  of  the  spinning  jenny. ^ Then  came  chaos.  The  feudal 
system  became  an  absurdity  when  its  basis  of  communism  with 

1 Explained  in  the  first  essay  in  this  volume, 

2 See  page  57-61. 


160 


TKANSITIOX  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


inequality  of  condition  had  changed  into  private  property  with 
free  contract  and  competition  rents.  The  guild  system  had  no 
machinery  for  dealing  with  division  of  labor,  the  factory  system, 
or  international  trade  : it  recognized  in  competitive  individualism 
only  something  to  be  repressed  as  diabolical.  But  competitive 
individualism  simply  took  possession  of  the  guilds,  and  turned 
them  into  refectories  for  aldermen,  and  notable  additions  to  the 
grievances  and  laughing  stocks  of  posterity. 

The  desperate  effort  of  the  human  intellect  to  unravel  this 
tangle  of  industrial  anarchy  brought  modern  political  economy 
into  existence.  It  took  shape  in  France,  where  the  confusion 
was  thrice  confounded ; and  proved  itself  a more  practical 
department  of  philosophy  than  the  metaphysics  of  the  school- 
men, the  Utopian  socialism  of  More,  or  the  sociology  of  Hobbes. 
It  could  trace  its  ancestry  to  Aristotle;  but  just  then  the  human 
intellect  was  rather  tired  of  Aristotle,  whose  economics,  besides, 
were  those  of  slave  holding  republics.  Political  economy  soon 
declared  for  industrial  anarchy ; for  private  property ; for  in- 
dividual recklessness  of  everything  except  individual  accumula- 
tion of  riches ; and  for  the  abolition  of  all  the  functions  of  the 
State  except  those  of  putting  down  violent  conduct  and  inva- 
sions of  private  property.  It  might  have  echoed  Jack  Cade’s 
exclamation,  “ But  then  are  we  in  order,  when  we  are  most  out 
of  order.” 

Although  this  was  what  jDolitical  economy  decreed,  it  must 
not  be  inferred  that  the  greater  economists  were  any  more 
advocates  of  mere  license  than  Prince  Kropotkin,  or  Mr.  Her- 
bert Spencer,  or  Mr.  Benjamin  Tucker  of  Boston,  or  any  other 
modern  Anarchist.  They  did  not  admit  that  the  alternative  to 
State  regulation  was  anarchy ; they  held  that  Nature  had  pro- 
vided an  all-powerful  automatic  regulator  in  Competition ; and 
that  by  its  operation  self-interest  would  evolve  order  out  of 
chaos  if  only  it  were  allowed  its  own  way.  They  loved  to 
believe  that  a right  and  just  social  order  was  not  an  artifi- 
cial and  painfully  maintained  legal  edifice,  but  a spontaneous 
outcome  of  the  free  j)lay  of  the  forces  of  Nature.  They 
were  reactionaries  against  feudal  domineering  and  medieval 
meddling  and  ecclesiastical  intolerance;  and  they  were  able 
to  shew  how  all  three  had  ended  in  disgraceful  failure,  cor- 
ruption and  self-stultificalion.  Indignant  at  the  spectacle  of 
the  peasant  struggling  against  the  denial  of  those  rights  of 


thansition. 


IGl 


private  property  which  his  feudal  lord  liad  successfully 
usurped,  they  strenuously  affirmed  the  right  of  private  prop- 
erty for  all.  And  whilst  they  were  dazzled  by  the  prodi- 
gious impulse  given  to  production  by  the  industrial  revolution 
under  competitive  private  enterprise,  they  were  at  the  same 
time,  for  want  of  statistics,  so  optimistically  ignorant  of  the 
condition  of  the  masses,  that  we  find  David  Hume,  in  17G6, 
writing  to  Turgot  that  ‘Hio  man  is  so  industrious  but  he 
may  add  some  hours  more  in  the  week  to  his  labor ; and 
scarce  anyone  is  so  poor  but  he  can  retrench  something  of 
his  expense.”  No  student  ever  gathers  from  a study  of  the 
individualist  economists  that  the  English  proletariat  was  seeth- 
ing in  horror  and  degradation  whilst  the  riches  of  the  propie- 
tors  were  increasing  by  leaps  and  bounds. 

The  historical  ignorance  of  the  economists  did  not,  however, 
disable  them  for  the  abstract  work  of  scientific  political  econ- 
omy. All  their  most  cherished  institutions  and  doctrines  suc- 
cumbed one  by  one  to  their  analysis  of  the  laws  of  production 
and  exchange.  With  one  law  alone  — the  law  of  rent  — they 
destroyed  the  whole  series  of  assumptions  upon  which  private 
property  is  based.  The  apriorist  notion  that  among  free  com- 
petitors wealth  must  go  to  the  industrious,  and  poverty  be  the 
just  and  natural  punishment  of  the  lazy  and  improvident, 
proved  as  illusory  as  the  apparent  flatness  of  the  earth.  Here 
was  a vast  mass  of  wealth  called  economic  rent,  increasing 
with  the  population,  and  consisting  of  the  difference  between 
the  product  of  the  national  industry  as  it  actually  was  and  as 
it  would  have  been  if  every  acre  of  land  in  the  country  had 
been  no  more  fertile  or  favorably  situated  than  the  very  worst 
acre  from  which  a bare  living  could  be  extracted : all  quite  in- 
capable of  being  assigned  to  this  or  that  individual  or  class  as 
the  return  to  his  or  its  separate  exertions  : all  purely  social  or 
common  wealth,  for  the  private  appropriation  of  which  no  per- 
manently valid  and  intellectually  honest  excuse  could  be  made. 
Ricardo  was  quite  as  explicit  and  far  more  thorough  on  the 
subject  than  Mr.  Henry  George.  He  pointed  out  — I quote 
liis  own  words  — that  the  whole  surplus  produce  of  the  soil, 
after  deducting  from  it  only  such  moderate  profits  as  are  suffi- 
cient to  encourage  accumulation,  must  finally  rest  with  the 
landlord.”  ^ 

1 ^'Principles  of  Political  Economy/’  chap,  xxiv,  p.  202. 


162 


TRANSITIOK  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCEACY. 


It  was  only  by  adopting  a preposterous  theory  of  value  that 
Ivicardo  was  able  to  maintain  that  the  laborer,  selling  himself 
for  wages  to  the  proprietor,  would  always  command  his  cost  of 
production,  ^.e.,  his  daily  subsistence.  Even  that  slender  conso- 
lation vanished  later  on  before  the  renewed  investigation  of 
value  made  by  Jevons,^  who  demonstrated  that  the  value  of  a 
commodity  is  a function  of  the  quantity  available,  and  may 
fall  to  zero  when  the  supply  outruns  the  demand  so  far  as  to 
make  the  final  increment  of  the  supply  useless.^  A fact  which 
the  unemployed  had  discovered,  without  the  aid  of  the  differen- 
tial calculus,  before  Jevons  was  born.  Private  property,  in 
fact,  left  no  room  for  new  comers.  Malthus  pointed  this  out, 
and  urged  that  there  should  be  no  newcomers,  that  the  popula- 
tion should  remain  stationary.  But  the  population  took  exactly 
as  much  notice  of  this  modest  demand  for  stagnation,  as  the 
incoming  tide  took  of  King  Canute’s  ankles.  Indeed  the  de- 
mand was  the  less  reasonable  since  the  power  of  production  per 
head  was  increasing  faster  than  the  population  (as  it  still  is), 
the  increase  of  poverty  being  produced  simply  by  the  increase 
and  private  appropriation  of  rent.  After  Ricardo  had  com- 
pleted the  individualist  synthesis  of  production  and  exchange,  a 
dialectrical  war  broke  out.  Proudhon  had  only  to  skim  through 
a Ricardian  treatise  to  understand  just  enough  of  it  to  be  able 
to  shew  that  political  economy  was  a reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of 
private  property  instead  of  a justification  of  it.  Ferdinand 
Lassalle,  with  Ricardo  in  one  hand  and  Hegel  in  the  other, 
turned  all  the  heavy  guns  of  the  philosophers  and  economists  on 
private  property  with  such  effect,  that  no  one  dared  to  chal- 
lenge his  characteristic  boasts  of  the  irresistible  equipment  of 
Social  Democracy  in  point  of  culture.  Karl  Marx,  without 
even  giving  up  the  Ricardian  value  theory,  seized  on  the  blue 
books  which  contained  the  true  history  of  the  leaps  and  bounds  of 
England’s  prosperity,  and  convicted  private  property  of  whole- 
sale spoliation,  murder  and  compulsory  prostitution ; of  plague, 
pestilence,  and  famine ; battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death. 
This  was  hardly  what  had  been  expected  from  an  institution  so 
highly  spoken  of.  Many  critics  said  that  the  attack  was  not 

1 ^‘Tlicory  of  Political  Economy.”  By  W.  Stanley  Jevons  (London: 
^facmillan  & Co.).  See  also  “ The  Alphabet  of  Economic  Science.” 
Part  by  Philip  H.  Wicksteed.  (Same  publishers.) 

2 See  pp.  7-9  ante. 


TRANSITION’. 


163 


fair  : no  one  ventured  to  pretend  that  the  charges  were  not  true. 
The  facts  were  not  only  admitted ; they  had  been  legislated 
upon.  Social  Democracy  was  working  itself  out  practically  as 
well  as  academically.  Before  I recite  the  steps  of  the  transi- 
tion, I will,  as  a matter  of  form,  explain  wliat  Social  D(3moc- 
racy  is,  though  doubtless  nearly  all  my  hearers  are  already 
conversant  with  it. 

What  the  achievement  of  Socialism  involves  economically, 
is  the  transfer  of  rent  from  the  class  which  now  appropriates 
it  to  the  whole  people.  Rent  being  that  part  of  the  prodnice 
which  is  individually  unearned,  this  is  the  only  equitable 
method  of  disposing  of  it.  There  is  no  means  of  getting 
rid  of  economic  rent.  So  long  as  the  fertility  of  land  varies  from 
acre  to  acre,  and  the  number  of  persons  passing  by  a shop  win- 
dow per  hour  varies  from  street  to  street,  with  the  result  that 
two  farmers  or  two  shopkeepers  of  exactly  equal  intelligence 
and  industry  will  reap  unequal  returns  from  their  year’s  work, 
so  long  will  it  be  equitable  to  take  from  the  richer  farmer  or 
shopkeeper  the  excess  over  his  fellow’s  gain  which  he  owes  to 
the  bounty  of  Nature  or  the  advantage  of  situation,  and  divide 
that  excess  of  rent  equally  between  the  two.  If  the  pair  of 
farms  or  shops  be  left  in  the  hands  of  a private  landlord,  he 
will  take  the  excess,  and,  instead  of  dividing  it  between  his 
two  tenants,  live  on  it  himself  idly  at  their  expense.  The 
economic  object  of  Socialism  is  not,  of  course,  to  equalise  far- 
mers and  shopkeepers  in  couples,  but  to  carry  out  the  principle 
over  the  whole  community  by  collecting  all  rents  and  throwing 
them  into  the  national  treasury.  As  the  private  proprietor  has 
no  reason  for  clinging  to  his  property  except  the  legal  power 
to  take  the  rent  and  spend  it  on  himself  — this  legal  power 
being  in  fact  what  really  constitutes  him  a proj^rietor  — its 
abrogation  would  mean  his  expropriation.  The  socialisation  of 
rent  would  mean  the  socialisation  of  the  sources  of  production 
by  the  expropriation  of  the  present  private  proprietors,  and  the 
transfer  of  their  property  to  the  entire  nation.  This  transfer, 
then,  is  the  subject  matter  of  the  transition  to  Socialism,  which 
began  some  forty-five  years  ago,  as  far  as  any  phase  of  social 
evolution  can  be  said  to  begin  at  all. 

It  will  be  at  once  seen  that  the  valid  objections  to  Socialism 
consist  wholly  of  practical  difficulties.  On  the  ground  of 
abstract  justice.  Socialism  is  not  only  unobjectionable,  but 


164 


TKANSITIOK  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCKACY. 


sacredly  imperative.  I am  afraid  that  in  the  ordinary  middle- 
class  opinion  Socialism  is  flagrantly  dishonest,  hut  could  be 
established  off-hand  to-morrow  with  the  help  of  a guillotine,  if 
there  were  no  police,  and  the  people  were  wicked  enough  In 
truth,  it  is  as  honest  as  it  is  inevitable  ; but  all  the  mobs  and 
guillotines  in  the  world  can  no  more  establish  it  than  police 
coercion  can  avert  it.  The  first  practical  difficulty  is  raised  by 
the  idea  of  the  entire  people  collectively  owning  land,  capital,  or 
anything  else.  Here  is  the  rent  arising  out  of  the  people’s 
industry  : here  are  the  pockets  of  the  private  proprietors.  The 
problem  is  to  drop  that  rent,  not  into  those  private  pockets,  but 
mto  the  people’s  pocket.  Yes ; but  where  is  the  people’s 
pocket  ? Who  is  the  people  ? what  is  the  people  ? Tom  we 
know,  and  Dick : also  Harry ; but  solely  and  separately  as 
individuals : as  a trinity  they  have  no  existence.  Who  is  their 
trustee,  their  guardian,  their  man  of  business,  their  manager, 
their  secretary,  even  their  stakeholder  ? The  Socialist  is  stopped 
dead  at  the  threshold  of  practical  action  by  this  difficulty  until 
he  bethinks  himself  of  the  State  as  the  representative  and 
trustee  of  the  people.  Now  if  you  will  just  form  a hasty 
picture  of  the  governments  which  called  themselves  States  in 
Ricardo’s  day,  consisting  of  rich  proprietors  legislating  either  by 
divine  right  or  by  the  exclusive  suffrage  of  the  poorer  proprie- 
tors, and  filling  the  executives  with  the  creatures  of  their 
patronage  and  favoritism ; if  you  look  beneath  their  oratorical 
parliamentary  discussions,  conducted  with  all  the  splendor  and 
decorum  of  an  expensive  sham  fight ; if  you  consider  their  class 
interests,  their  shameless  corruption,  and  the  waste  and  mis- 
management which  disgraced  all  their  bungling  attempts  at 
practical  business  of  any  kind,  you  will  understand  why 
Ricardo,  clearly  as  he  saw  the  economic  consequences  of 
private  appropriation  of  rent,  never  dreamt  of  State  appropria- 
tion as  a possible  alternative.  The  Socialist  of  that  time  did 
not  greatly  care : he  was  only  a benevolent  Utopian  who 
planned  model  communities,  and  occasionally  carried  them  out, 
with  negatively  instructive  and  positively  disastrous  results. 
When  his  successors  learned  economies  from  Ricardo,  they 
saw  the  difficulty  quite  as  plainly  as  Ricardo’s  vulgarisers,  the 
Whig  doctrinaires  who  accepted  the  incompetence  and  corrup- 
tion of  States  as  permanent  inherent  State  qualities,  like  the 
acidity  of  lemons.  Not  that  the  Socialists  were  not  doctrinaires 


TKAXSITIOX. 


165 


too ; but  outside  economics  they  were  pupils  of  Hegel,  whilst 
the  Whigs  were  pupils  of  Beiitham  and  Austin.  Bentham’s  was 
not  the  school  in  which  men  learned  to  solve  problems  to  which 
history  alone  could  give  the  key,  or  to  form  conceptions  which 
belonged  to  the  evolutional  order.  Hegel,  on  the  other  hand, 
expressly  taught  the  conception  of  the  perfect  State ; and  his 
pupils  saw  that  nothing  in  the  nature  of  things  made  it  impos- 
sible, or  even  specially  difficult,  to  make  the  existing  State,  if 
not  absolutely  perfect,  at  least  practically  trustworthy.  They 
contemplated  the  insolent  and  inefficient  government  official  of 
their  day  without  rushing  to  the  conclusion  that  the  State 
uniform  had  a magic  property  of  extinguishing  all  business 
capacity,  integrity,  and  common  civility  in  the  wearer.  When 
State  oliicials  obtained  their  posts  by  favoritism  and  j^atronage, 
efficiency  on  their  part  was  an  accident,  and  politeness  a conde- 
scension. AThen  they  retained  their  posts  without  any  effective 
responsibility  to  the  public,  they  naturally  defrauded  the  public 
by  making  their  posts  sinecures,  and  insulted  the  public  when, 
by  personal  inquiry,  it  made  itself  troublesome.  But  every 
successfully  conducted  private  business  establishment  in  the 
kingdom  was  an  example  of  the  ease  with  which  public  ones 
could  be  reformed  as  soon  as  there  was  the  effective  will  to  find 
out  the  way.  Make  the  passing  of  a sufficient  examination  an 
indispensable  preliminary  to  entering  the  executive ; make  the 
executive  responsible  to  the  government  and  the  goveimment 
responsible  to  the  people  ; and  kState  departments  will  be  pro- 
vided with  all  the  guarantees  for  integrity  and  efficiency  that 
private  money-hunting  pretends  to.  Thus  the  old  bugbear  of 
State  imbecility  did  not  terrify  the  Socialist : it  only  made  him 
a Democrat.  But  to  call  himself  so  simply,  would  have  had  the 
effect  of  classing  him  with  the  ordinary  destructive  politician 
who  is  a Democrat  without  ulterior  views  for  the  sake  of  formal 
Democracy  — one  whose  notion  of  Radicalism  is  the  pulling  up 
of  aristocratic  institutions  by  the  roots  — who  is,  briefly,  a sort 
of  Universal  Abolitionist.  Consequently,  we  have  the  distinc- 
tive term  Social  Democrat,  indicating  the  man  or  woman  who 
desires  through  Democracy  to  gather  the  whole  people  into  the 
State,  so  that  the  State  may  be  trusted  with  the  rent  of  the 
country,  and  finally  with  the  land,  the  capital,  and  the  organisa- 
tion of  the  national  industry  — with  all  the  sources  of  produc- 
tion, in  short,  which  are  now  abandoned  to  the  cupidity  of  irre- 
sponsible private  individuals. 


166 


TRANSITIOK  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCK  AC  Y, 


The  benefits  of  such  a change  as  this  are  so  obvious  to  all 
except  the  existing  private  proprietors  and  their  parasites,  that 
it  is  very  necessary  to  insist  on  the  impossibility  of  effecting  it 
suddenly.  The  young  Socialist  is  apt  to  be  catastrophic  in  his 
views  ■ — to  plan  the  revolutionary  programme  as  an  affair  of 
twenty-four  lively  hours,  with  Individualism  in  full  swing  on 
Monday  morning,  a tidal  wave  of  the  insurgent  proletariat  on 
Monday  afternoon,  and  Socialism  in  complete  working  order  on 
Tuesday.  A man  who  believes  that  such  a happy  despatch  is 
possible,  will  naturally  think  it  absurd  and  even  inhuman  to 
stick  at  bloodshed  in  bringing  it  about.  He  can  prove  that  the 
continuance  of  the  present  system  for  a year  costs  more  suffering 
than  could  be  crammed  into  any  Monday  afternoon,  however 
sanguinary.  This  is  the  phase  of  conviction  hi  which  are 
delivered  those  Socialist  speeches  which  make  what  the  news- 
papers call  “ good  copy,’’  and  which  are  the  only  ones  they  as 
yet  report.  Such  speeches  are  encouraged  by  the  hasty  opposi- 
tion they  evoke  from  thoughtless  persons,  who  begin  by  tacitly 
admitting  that  a sudden  change  is  feasible,  and  go  on  to  protest 
that  it  would  be  wicked.  The  experienced  Social  Democrat 
converts  his  too  ardent  follower  by  first  admitting  that  if  the 
change  could  be  made  catastrophically  it  would  be  well  worth 
making,  and  then  proceeding  to  point  out  that  as  it  would 
involve  a readjustment  of  productive  industry  to  meet  the 
demand  created  by  an  entirely  new  distribution  of  purchasing 
power,  it  would  also  involve,  in  the  application  of  labor  and 
industrial  machinery,  alterations  which  no  afternoon’s  work 
could  effect.  You  cannot  convince  any  man  that  it  is  impossible 
to  tear  down  a government  in  a day ; but  eveiybody  is  convinced 
already  that  you  cannot  convert  first  and  third  class  carriages 
into  second  class;  rookeries  and  palaces  into  comfortable 
dwellings ; and  jewellers  and  dressmakers  into  bakers  and 
builders,  by  merely  singing  the  ‘^Marseillaise-”  No  judicious 
person,  however  deeply  persuaded  that  the  work  of  the  court 
dressmaker  has  no  true  social  utility,  would  greatly  care  to 
quarter  her  idly  on  the  genuinely  productive  workers  pending 
the  preparation  of  a place  for  lier  in  their  ranks.  For  though 
she  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  quartered  on  them  at  present, 
yet  she  at  least  esca])es  tlie  demoralisation  of  idleness.  Until 
her  new  place  is  ready,  it  is  better  tliat  her  patrons  should  find 
dressmaking  for  her  liands  to  do,  than  that  Satan  should  find 


TRANSITION. 


167 


mischief.  Demolisliiiig  a Bastille  with  seven  prisoners  in  it  is 
one  thing : demolishing  one  with  fourteen  million  prisoners  is 
quite  another.  1 need  not  enlarge  on  the  point : the  necessity 
for  cautions  and  gradual  change  must  be  obvious  to  everyone 
here,  and  could  be  made  obvious  to  everyone  elsewhere  if  only 
the  catastrophists  were  courageously  and  sensibly  dealt  nvith  in 
discussion. 

AVhat  then  does  a gradual  transition  to  Social  Democracy 
mean  specifically  ? It  means  the  gradual  extension  of  the 
franchise ; and  the  transfer  of  rent  and  interest  to  the  State,  not 
in  one  lump  sum,  but  by  instalments.  Looked  at  in  this  way, 
it  will  at  once  be  seen  that  we  are  already  far  on  the  road,  and 
are  being  urged  further  by  many  politicians  who  do  not  dream 
that  they  are  touched  with  Socialism  — nay,  who  would  earnestly 
repudiate  the  touch  as  a taint.  Let  us  see  how  far  we  have 
gone.  In  1832  the  political  power  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
middle  class  ; and  in  1838  Lord  John  Russell  announced  finality. 
Meanwhile,  in  1834,  the  middle  class  had  swept  away  the  last 
economic  refuge  of  the  workers,  the  old  Poor  Law,  and  delivered 
them  naked  to  the  furies  of  competition.^  Ten  years  turmoil 
and  active  emigration  followed ; and  then  the  thin  end  of  the 
wedge  went  in.  The  Income  Tax  was  established  ; and  the 
Factory  Acts  were  made  effective.  The  Income  Tax  (1842), 
which  is  on  individualist  principles  an  intolerable  spoliative 
anomaly,  is  simply  a forcible  transfer  of  rent,  interest,  and  even 
rent  of  ability,  from  private  holders  to  the  State  without  com- 
pensation. It  excused  itself  to  the  Whigs  on  the  ground  that 
those  who  had  most  property  for  the  State  to  protect  should 
pay  ad  valorem  for  its  protection.  The  Factory  Acts  swept  the 
anarchic  theory  of  the  irresponsibility  of  private  enterprise  out 
of  practical  politics  ; made  employers  accountable  to  the  State 
for  the  well-being  of  their  employees  ; and  transferred  a further 
instalment  of  profits  directly  to  the  worker  by  raising  wages. 
Then  came  the  gold  discoveries  in  California  (1847)  and  Aus- 
tralia (1851),  and  the  period  of  leaps  and  bounds,  supported  by 
the  economic  rent  of  England’s  mineral  fertility,  which  kindled 
Mr.  Gladstone’s  retrogressive  instincts  to  a vain  hope  of  abolish- 

1 The  general  impression  that  the  old  Poor  Law  liad  become  an  inde- 
fensible nuisance  is  a correct  one.  All  attempts  to  mitigate  Individual- 
ism by  philanthropy  instead  of  replacing  it  by  Socialism  are  foredoomed 
to  confusion. 


168  TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 

ing  the  Income  Tax.  These  events  relieved  the  pressure  set  up 
by  the  New  Poor  Law.  The  workers  rapidly  organized  them- 
selves in  Trades  Unions,  which  were  denounced  then  for  their 
tendency  to  sap  the  manly  independence  which  had  formerly 
characterized  the  British  workman,^  and  which  are  to-day  held 
up  to  him  as  the  self-helpful  perfection  of  that  manly  indepen- 
dence. Howbeit,  self-help  flourished,  especially  at  Manchester  and 
Sheffield ; State  help  was  voted  grandmotlierly  ; wages  went 
up  ; and  the  Unions,  like  the  fly  on  the  wheel,  thought  that  they 
had  raised  them.  They  were  mistaken  ; but  the  value  of  Trade 
Unionism  in  awakening  the  social  conscience  of  the  skilled 
workers  was  immense,  though  to  this  there  was  a heavy  set-off 
in  its  tendency  to  destroy  their  artistic  conscience  by  making 
them  aware  that  it  was  their  duty  to  one  another  to  discourage 
rapid  and  efficient  workmanship  by  every  means  in  their  power. 
An  extension  of  the  franchise,  which  was  really  an  instalment 
of  Democracy,  and  not,  like  the  1832  Reform  Bill,  only  an 
advance  towards  it,  was  gained  in  1867  ; and  immediately  after- 
wards came  another  instalment  of  Socialism  in  the  shape  of  a 
further  transfer  of  rent  and  interest  from  private  holders  to  the 
State  for  the  purpose  of  educating  the  people.  In  the  meantime, 
the  extraordinary  success  of  the  post-office,  which,  according  to 
the  teaching  of  the  Manchester  school,  should  have  been  a nest 
of  incompetence  and  jobbery,  liad  not  only  shewn  the  perfect 
efficiency  of  State  enterprise  when  the  officials  are  made  respon- 
sible to  the  class  interested  in  its  success,  but  had  also  proved 
the  enormous  convenience  and  cheapness  of  socialistic  or  col- 
lectivist charges  over  those  of  private  enterprise.  For  example, 
the  Postmaster  General  charges  a penny  for  sending  a letter 
weighing  an  ounce  from  Kensington  to  Bayswater.  Private  en- 
terprise would  send  half  a pound  the  same  distance  for  a farth- 
ing, and  make  a handsome  profit  on  it.  But  the  Postmaster 
General  also  sends  an  ounce  letter  from  Land’s  End  to  John 
o’  Groat’s  House  for  a penny.  Private  enterprise  would  prob- 
ably demand  at  least  a shilling,  if  not  five,  for  such  a service  ; 
and  there  are  many  places  in  which  private  enterprise  could  not 
on  any  terms  maintain  a post-office.  Therefore  a citizen  with 
ten  letters  to  post  saves  considerably  by  the  uniform  socialistic 
charge,  and  quite  recognises  the  necessity  for  rigidly  protecting 
the  Postmaster’s  monopoly. 

1 Sec  Finjil  Report  of  Royal  Commission  on  Trade  Unions,  1869. 
Vol.  i,  p.  xvii,  sec.  46. 


TKANSITIOK. 


169 


After  1875,^  leaping  and  bounding  prosperity,  after  a final 
spurt  during  which  the  Income  Tax  fell  to  twopence,  got  out  of 
breath,  and  has  not  yet  recovered  it.  Russia  and  America, 
among  other  competitors,  began  to  raise  the  margin  of  cultiva- 
tion at  a surprising  rate.  Education  began  to  intensify  the  sense 
of  suffering,  and  to  throw  light  upon  its  causes  in  dark  places. 
The  capital  needed  to  keep  English  industry  abreast  of  the 
growing  population  began  to  be  attracted  by  the  leaping  and 
bounding  of  foreign  loans  and  investments,^  and  to  bring  to 
England,  in  payment  of  interest,  imports  that  were  not  paid  for 
by  exports  — a phenomenon  inexpressibly  disconcerting  to  the 
Cobden  Club.  The  old  pressure  of  the  eighteen-thirties  came 
back  again  ; and  presently,  as  if  Chartism  and  Fergus  O’Connor 
had  risen  from  the  dead,  the  Democratic  Federation  and  Mr. 
H.  M.  Hyndman  appeared  in  the  field,  highly  significant  as  signs 
of  the  times,  and  looming  hideously  magnified  in  the  guilty  eye 
of  property,  if  not  of  great  account  as  direct  factors  in  the 
course  of  events.  Numbers  of  young  men,  pupils  of  Mill, 
Spencer,  Comte,  and  Darwin,  roused  by  Mr.  Henry  George’s 

Progress  and  Poverty,*”  left  aside  evolution  and  freethought ; 
took  to  insurrectionary  economics  ; studied  Karl  Marx ; and 
were  so  convinced  that  Socialism  had  only  to  be  put  clearly 
before  the  working-classes  to  concentrate  the  power  of  their 
immense  numbers  in  one  irresistible  organization,  that  the 
Revolution  was  fixed  for  1889  — the  anniversary  of  the  French 
Revolution  — at  latest.  I remember  being  asked  satirically  and 
publicly  at  that  time  how  long  I thought  it  would  take  to  get 
Socialism  into  working  order  if  I had  my  way.  I replied,  with 
a spirited  modesty,  that  a fortnight  would  be  ample  for  the 
purpose.  When  I add  that  I was  frequentl}^  complimented  on 
being  one  of  the  more  reasonable  Socialists,  you  will  be  able  to 
appreciate  the  fervor  of  our  conviction,  and  the  extravagant 
levity  of  our  practical  ideas.  The  opposition  we  got  was  unin- 
s tractive : it  was  mainly  founded  on  the  assumption  that  our 
projects  were  theoretically  unsound  but  immediately  possible, 
whereas  our  weak  point  lay  in  the  case  being  exactly  the  reverse. 

1 See  Mr.  Robert  Giffen^s  address  on  The  Recent  Rate  of  Material 
Progress  in  England/^  Proceedings  of  the  British  Association  at  Man- 
chester in  1887,  page  806. 

2 See  Mr.  Robert  Giffen  on  Import  and  Export  Statistics,  “ Essays  on 
Finance,”  Second  Series,  p.  194.  (London : G.  Bell  & Sons.  1886.) 


170 


TEANSITIOK  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


However,  the  ensuing  years  sifted  and  sobered  us.  The  So- 
cialists,” as  they  were  called,  have  fallen  into  line  as  a Social 
Democratic  party,  no  more  insurrectionary  in  its  policy  than 
any  other  party.  But  I shall  not  present  the  remainder  of  the 
transition  to  Social  Democracy  as  the  work  of  fully  conscious 
Social  Democrats.  I prefer  to  ignore  them  altogether  — to 
suppose,  if  you  will,  that  the  Government  will  shortly  follow  the 
advice  of  the  Saturday  Review,  and,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and 
quietness,  hang  them. 

First,  then,  as  to  the  consummation  of  Democracy.  Since 
1885  every  man  who  pays  four  shillings  a week  rent  can  only 
be  hindered  from  voting  by  anomalous  conditions  of  registration 
which  are  likely  to  be  swept  away  very  shortly.  This  is  all  but 
manhood  suffrage  ; and  it  will  soon  complete  itself  as  adult 
suffrage.  However,  I may  leave  adult  su&age  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, because  the  outlawry  of  women,  monstrous  as  it  is,  is  not 
a question  of  class  privilege,  but  of  sex  privilege.  To  complete 
the  foundation  of  the  democratic  State,  then,  we  need  manhood 
suffrage,  abolition  of  all  poverty  disqualifications,  abolition  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  public  payment  of  candidature  expenses, 
public  payment  of  representatives,  and  annual  elections.  These 
changes  are  now  inevitable,  however  unacceptable  they  may 
appear  to  those  of  us  who  are  Conservatives.  They  have  been 
for  half  a century  the  commonplaces  of  Radicalism.  We  have 
next  to  consider  that  the  State  is  not  merely  an  abstraction : it 
is  a machine  to  do  certain  work ; and  if  that  work  be  increased 
and  altered  in  its  character,  the  machinery  must  be  multiplied 
and  altered  too.  Now,  the  extension  of  the  franchise  does  in- 
crease and  alter  the  work  very  considerably  ; but  it  has  no  direct 
effect  on  the  machinery.  At  present  the  State  machine  has 
practically  broken  down  under  the  strain  of  spreading  democ- 
racy, the  work  being  mainly  local,  and  the  machinery  mainly 
central.  Witliout  efficient  loc^l  machinery  the  replacing  of 
private  enterprise  by  State  enterprise  is  out  of  the  question  ; and 
we  shall  presently  see  tliat  such  replacement  is  one  of  the  in- 
evitable consequences  of  Democracy.  A democratic  State  can- 
not become  a /SbcfaZ-Democratic  State  unless  it  has  in  every 
centre  of  population  a local  governing  body  as  thoroughly 
democratic  in  its  constitution  as  the  central  Parliament.  This 
matter  is  also  well  in  train.  In  1888  a Government  avowedly 
reactionary  passed  a Local  Government  Bill  which  effected  a 


TRANSITION. 


171 


distinct  advance  towards  the  democratic  municipality.^  It  was 
furthermore  a Bill  with  no  single  aspect  of  finality  anywhere 
about  it.  Local  Self-Government  remains  prominent  within  the 
sphere  of  practical  politics.  When  it  is  achieved,  the  democratic 
State  will  have  the  machinery  for  Socialism. 

And  now,  how  is  the  raw  material  of  Socialism  — otherwise 
the  Proletarian  man  — to  be  brought  to  the  Derxiocratic  State 
machinery  ? Here  again  the  path  is  easily  found.  Politicians 
who  have  no  suspicion  that  they  are  Socialists,  are  advocating 
further  instalments  of  Socialism  with  a recklessness  of  indirect 
results  which  scandalizes  the  conscious  Social  Democrat.  The 
phenomenon  of  economic  rent  has  assumed  prodigious  propor- 
tions in  our  great  cities.  The  injustice  of  its  private  appropria- 
tion is  glaring,  flagrant,  almost  ridiculous.  In  the  long  suburban 
roads  about  London,  where  rows  of  exactly  similar  houses 
stretch  for  miles  country  wards,  the  rent  changes  at  every  few 
thousand  yards  by  exactly  the  amount  saved  or  incurred 
annually  in  travelling  to  and  from  the  householder’s  place  of 
business.  The  seeker  after  lodgings,  hesitating  between  Blooms- 
bury and  Tottenham,  finds  every  advantage  of  situation  skimmed 
off  by  the  landlord  with  scientific  precision.  As  lease  after  lease 
falls  in,  houses,  shops,  goodwills  of  businesses  which  are  the 
fruits  of  the  labor  of  lifetimes,  fall  into  the  maw  of  the  ground 
landlord.  Confiscation  of  capital,  spoliation  of  households, 
annihilation  of  incentive,  everything  that  the  most  ignorant  and 
credulous  fundholder  ever  charged  against  the  Socialist,  rages 
openly  in  London,  which  begins  to  ask  itself  whether  it  exists 
and  toils  only  for  the  typical  duke  and  his  celebrated  jockey 
and  his  famous  racehorse.  Lord  Hobhouse  and  his  unimpeach- 
ably respectable  committee  for  the  taxation  of  ground  values 
are  already  in  the  field  claiming  the  value  of  the  site  of  London 
for  London  collectively  ; and  their  agitation  receives  additional 
momentum  from  every  lease  that  falls  in.  Their  case  is  un- 
assailable ; and  the  evil  they  attack  is  one  that  presses-  on  the 
ratepaying  and  leaseholding  classes  as  well  as  upon  humbler 
sufferers.  This  economic  pressure  is  reinforced  formidably  by 
political  opinion  in  the  workmen’s  associations.  Here  the 

1 This  same  Government,  beginning  to  realise  what  it  has  uninten- 
tionally done  for  Social  Democracy,  is  already  (1889)  doing  what  it  can 
to  render  the  new  County  Councils  socialistically  impotent  by  urgently 
reminding  them  of  the  restrictions  which  liamper  their  action. 


172  TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 

moderate  members  are  content  to  demand  a progressive  Income 
Tax,  which  is  virtually  Lord  Hobhouse’s  proposal;  and  the 
extremists  are  all  for  Land  Nationalisation,  which  is  again 
Lord  Hobhouse’s  principle.  The  cry  for  such  taxation  cannot 
permanently  be  resisted.  And  it  is  very  worthy  of  remark  that 
there  is  a new  note  in  the  cry.  Formerly  taxes  were  proposed 
with  a specific  object — as  to  pay  for  a war,  for  education,  or 
the  like.  Now  the  proposal  is  to  tax  the  landlords  in  order  to 
get  some  of  our  money  back  from  them  — take  it  from  them 
first  and  find  a use  for  it  afterwards.  Ever  since  Mr.  Henry 
George’s  book  reached  the  English  Radicals,  there  has  been  a 
growing  disposition  to  impose  a tax  of  twenty  shillings  in  the 
pound  on  obviously  unearned  incomes  ; that  is,  to  dump  four 
hundred  and  fifty  millions  ^ a year  down  on  the  Exchequer 
counter ; and  then  retire  with  three  cheers  for  the  restoration 
of  the  land  to  the  people. 

The  results  of  such  a proceeding,  if  it  actually  came  off, 
would  considerably  take  its  advocates  aback.  The  streets 
would  presently  be  filled  with  starving  workers  of  all  grades, 
domestic  servants,  coach-builders,  decorators,  jewellers,  lace- 
makers,  fashionable  professional  men,  and  numberless  others 
whose  livelihood  is  at  present  gained  by  ministering  to  the 
wants  of  these  and  of  the  proprietary  class.  This,”  they 
would  cry,  is  what  your  theories  have  brought  us  to  ! Back 
with  the  good  old  times,  when  we  received  our  wages,  which 
were  at  least  better  than  nothing.”  Evidently  the  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer  would  have  three  courses  open  to  him.  (1) 
He  would  give  the  money  back  again  to  the  landlords  and 
capitalists  with  an  apology.  (2)  He  could  attempt  to  start 
State  industries  with  it  for  the  employment  of  the  people.  (3) 
Or  he  could  simply  distribute  it  among  the  unemployed.  The 
last  is  not  to  be  thought  of : anything  is  better  than  panem  et 
circenses.  The  second  (starting  State  industries)  would  be  far 
too  vast  an  undertaking  to  get  on  foot  soon  enough  to  meet 
the  urgent  difficulty.  The  first  (the  return  with  an  apology) 
would  be  a rediictio  ad  absurdum  of  the  whole  affair  — a con- 
fession that  the  private  proprietor,  for  all  his  idleness  and 
his  voracity,  is  indeed  performing  an  indispensable  economic 
function  — ^ the  function  of  capitalising,  however  wastefully 

1 The  authority  for  this  figure  will  be  found  in  Fabian  Tract,  No  5, 
‘‘Facts  for  Socialists.” 


TRANSITION. 


173 


and  viciously,  the  wealth  which  surpasses  his  necessarily 
limited  power  of  immediate  personal  consumption.  And  here 
we  have  checkmate  to  mere  Henry  Georgism,  or  State  appro- 
priation of  rent  without  Socialism.  It  is  easy  to  shew  that  the 
State  is  entitled  to  the  whole  income  of  the  Duke  of  West- 
minster, and  to  argue  therefrom  that  he  should  straightway  be 
taxed  twenty  shillings  in  the  pound.  But  in  practical  earnest 
the  State  has  no  right  to  take  five  farthings  of  capital  from  the 
Duke  or  anybody  else  until  it  is  ready  to  invest  them  in  pro- 
ductive enterprise.  The  consequences  of  withdrawing  capital 
from  private  hands  merely  to  lock  it  up  unproductively  in  the 
treasury  would  be  so  swift  and  ruinous,  that  no  statesman, 
however  fortified  with  the  destructive  resources  of  abstract 
economics,  could  persist  in  it.  It  will  be  found  in  the  future  as 
in  the  past  that  governments  will  raise  money  only  because  they 
want  it  for  specific  purposes,  and  not  on  a 'priori  demonstrations 
that  they  have  a right  to  it.  But  it  must  be  added  that  when 
they  do  want  it  for  a specific  purpose,  then,  also  in  the  future 
as  in  the  past,  tliey  will  raise  it  without  the  slightest  regard  to 
a priori  demonstrations  that  they  have  no  right  to  it. 

Here  then  we  have  got  to  a dead  lock.  In  spite  of  demo- 
crats and  land  nationalisers,  rent  cannot  be  touched  unless  some 
pressure  from  quite  another  quarter  forces  productive  enterprise 
on  the  State.  Such  pressure  is  already  forthcoming.  The  quick 
starvation  of  the  unemployed,  the  slow  starvation  of  the 
employed  who  have  no  relatively  scarce  special  skill,  the  un- 
bearable anxiety  or  dangerous  recklessness  of  those  who  are 
employed  to-day  and  unemployed  to-morrow,  the  rise  in  urban 
rents,  the  screwing  down  of  wages  by  pauper  immigration  and 
home  multiplication,  the  hand-in-hand  advance  of  education 
and  discontent,  are  all  working  up  to  explosion  point.  It  is  use- 
less to  prove  by  statistics  that  most  of  the  people  are  better  off 
than  before,  true  as  that  probably  is,  thanks  to  instalments  of 
Social  Democracy.  Yet  even  that  is  questionable ; for  it  is  idle 
to  claim  authority  for  statistics  of  things  that  have  never  been 
recorded.  Chaos  has  no  statistics : it  has  only  statisticians  ; 
and  the  ablest  of  them  prefaces  his  remarks  on  the  increased 
consumption  of  rice  by  the  admission  that  no  one  can 
contemplate  the  present  condition  of  the  masses  without 
desiring  something  like  a revolution  for  the  better.”  ^ The 

1 Mr.  R.  Gifien,  Essays  in  Finance,’^  Second  Series,  p.  393. 


174 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


masses  themselves  are  being  converted  so  rapidly  to  that  view 
of  the  situation,  that  we  have  Pan- Anglican  Synods,  bewildered 
by  a revival  of  Christianity,  pleading  that  though  Socialism  is 
eminently  Christian,  yet  the  Church  must  act  safely  as  well 
as  sublimely.’’  ^ During  the  agitation  made  by  the  unemployed 
last  winter  (1887-8),  the  Chief  Commissioner  of  Police  in 
London  started  at  his  own  shadow,  and  mistook  Mr.  John 
Burns  for  the  French  Revolution,  to  the  great  delight  of  that 
genial  and  courageous  champion  of  his  class.^  The  existence 
of  the  pressure  is  further  shewn  by  the  number  and  variety  of 
safety  valves  proposed  to  relieve  it  — monetization  of  silver, 
import  duties,  ^‘leaseholds  enfranchisement,”  extension  of  joint- 
stock  capitalism  masquerading  as  co-operation,®  and  other 
irrelevancies.  My  own  sudden  promotion  from  the  street  corner 
to  this  platform  is  in  its  way  a sign  of  the  times.  But  whilst 
we  are  pointing  the  moral  and  adorning  the  tale  according  to 
our  various  opinions,  an  actual  struggle  is  beginning  between 
the  unemployed  who  demand  work  and  the  local  authorities 
appointed  to  deal  with  the  poor.  In  the  winter,  the  unemployed 
collect  round  red  flags,  and  listen  to  speeches  for  want  of  any- 
thing else  to  do.  They  welcome  Socialism,  insurrectionism, 
currency  craze  — anything  that  passes  the  time  and  seems  to 
express  the  fact  that  they  are  hungry.  The  local  authorities, 
equally  innocent  of  studied  economic  views,  deny  that  there  is 
any  misery ; send  leaders  of  deputations  to  the  Local  Govern- 
ment Board,  who  promptly  send  them  back  to  the  guardians ; 
try  bullying ; try  stoneyards  ; try  bludgeoning ; and  finally  sit 
down  helplessly  and  wish  it  were  summer  again  or  the  un- 
employed at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Meanwhile  the  charity  fund, 
which  is  much  less  elastic  than  the  wages  fund,  overflows  at 
the  Mansion  House  only  to  run  dry  at  the  permanent  institu- 
tions. So  unstable  a state  of  things  cannot  last.  The 

1 Proceedings  of  the  Pan-Anglican  Synod : Lambeth,  1888.  Report 
of  Committee  on  Socialism. 

2 Finally,  the  Commissioner  was  superseded ; and  Mr.  Burns  was 
elected  a member  of  the  first  London  County  Council  by  a large  ma- 
jority. 

3 It  is  due  to  the  leaders  of  the  Co-operative  movement  to  say  here 
that  they  are  no  parties  to  the  substitution  of  dividend-hunting  by 
petty  capitalists  for  the  pursuit  of  the  ideal  of  Robert  Owen,  the 
Socialist  founder  of  Co-operation  ; and  that  they  are  fully  aware  that 
Co-operation  must  be  a political  as  well  as  a commercial  movement  if 
it  is  to  achieve  a final  solution  of  the  labor  question. 


TKANSITION. 


175 


bludgeoning,  and  the  ‘shocking  clamor  for  bloodshed  from  the 
anti-popular  newspapers,  will  create  a revulsion  among  the 
humane  section  of  the  middle  class.  The  section  which  is 
blinded  by  class  prejudice  to  all  sense  of  social  responsibility, 
dreads  personal  violence  from  the  working  class  with  a super- 
stitious terror  that  defies  enlightenment  or  control.^  Municipal 
employment  must  be  offered  at  last.  This  cannot  be  done  in 
one  place  alone : the  rush  from  other  parts  of  the  country  would 
swamp  an  isolated  experiment.  Wherever  the  pressure  is,  the 
relief  must  be  given  on  the  spot.  And  since  public  decency,  as 
well  as  consideration  for  its  higher  officials,  will  prevent  the 
County  Council  from  instituting  a working  day  of  sixteen 
hours  at  a wage  of  a penny  an  hour  or  less,  it  will  soon 
have  on  its  hands  not  only  the  unemployed,  but  also  the  white 
slaves  of  the  sweater,  who  will  escape  from  their  dens  and  ap- 
peal to  the  municipality  for  work  the  moment  they  become 
aware  that  municipal  employment  is  better  than  private  sweat- 
ing. Nay,  the  sweater  himself,  a mere  slave  driver  paid  ‘‘  by 
the  piece,”  will  in  many  instances  be  as  anxious  as  his  victims 
to  escape  from  his  hideous  trade.  But  the  municipal  organisa- 
tion of  the  industry  of  these  people  will  require  capital.  Where 
is  the  municipality  to  get  it  ? Raising  the  rates  is  out  of  the 
question : the  ordinary  tradesmen  and  householders  are  already 
rated  and  rented  to  the  limit  of  endurance : further  burdens 
would  almost  brin^  them  into  the  street  with  a red  fla^. 
Dreadful  dilemma ! in  which  the  County  Council,  between  the 
devil  and  the  deep  sea,  will  hear  Lord  Hobhouse  singing  a song 
of  deliverance,  telling  a golden  tale  of  ground  values  to  be 
municipalised,  by  taxation.  The  land  nationalisers  will  swell 
the  chorus : the  Radical  progressive  income  taxers  singing 
together,  and  the  ratepaying  tenants  shouting  for  joy.  The 
capital  difficulty  thus  solved  — for  we  need  not  seriously  antici- 
pate that  the  landlords  will  actually  fight,  as  our  President^ 
once  threatened  — the  question  of  acquiring  land  will  arise.  The 
nationalisers  will  declare  for  its  annexation  by  the  municipality 
without  compensation  ; but  that  will  be  rejected  as  spoliation, 
worthy  only  of  revolutionary  Socialists.  The  no-compensation 

1 Ample  material  for  a study  of  West  End  mob  panic  may  be  found 
in  the  London  newspapers  of  February,  1886,  and  November,  1887. 

2 Lord  Bramwell,  President  of  the  Economic  Section  of  the  British 
Association  in  1888. 


176 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


cry  is  indeed  a piece  of  unpractical  catastrophic  insurrectionism ; 
for  whilst  compensation  would  be  unnecessary  and  absurd  if 
every  proprietor  were  expropriated  simultaneously,  and  the 
proprietary  system  at  once  replaced  by  full  blown  Socialism, 
yet  when  it  is  necessary  to  proceed  by  degrees,  the  denial  of 
compensation  would  have  the  effect  of  singling  out  individual 
proprietors  for  expropriation  whilst  the  others  remained  unmo- 
lested, and  depriving  them  of  their  private  means  long  before 
there  was  suitable  municipal  employment  ready  for  them.  The 
land,  as  it  is  required,  will  therefore  be  honestly  purchased ; 
and  the  purchase  money,  or  the  interest  thereon,  will  be  pro- 
cured, like  the  capital,  by  taxing  rent.  Of  course  this  will  be 
at  bottom  an  act  of  expropriation  just  as  much  as  the  collection 
of  Income  Tax  to-day  is  an  act  of  expropriation.  As  such,  it 
will  be  denounced  by  the  landlords  as  merely  a committing  of 
the  newest  sin  the  oldest  kind  of  way.  In  effect,  they  will  be 
compelled  at  each  purchase  to  buy  out  one  of  their  body  and 
present  his  land  to  the  municipality,  thereby  distributing  the 
loss  fairly  over  their  whole  class,  instead  of  placing  it  on  one 
man  who  is  no  more  responsible  than  the  rest.  But  they  will 
be  compelled  to  do  this  in  a manner  that  will  satisfy  the  moral 
sense  of  the  ordinary  citizen  as  effectively  as  that  of  the  skilled 
economist. 

We  now  foresee  our  municipality  equipped  with  land  and 
capital  for  industrial  purposes.  At  first  they  will  naturally 
extend  the  industries  they  already  carry  on,  road  making,  gas 
works,  tramways,  building,  and  the  like.  It  is  probable  that 
they  will  for  the  most  part  regard  their  action  as  a mere  device 
to  meet  a passing  emergency.  The  Manchester  School  will 
urge  its  Protectionist  theories  as  to  the  exemption  of  private 
enterprise  from  the  competition  of  public  enterprise,  in  one 
supreme  effort  to  practise  for  the  last  time  on  popular  ignorance 
of  tlie  science  which  it  has  consistently  striven  to  debase  and 
stultify.  For  a while  the  proprietary  party  will  succeed  in 
hampering  and  restricting  municipal  enterprise ; ^ in  attaching 
tlie  stigma  of  pauperism  to  its  service ; in  keeping  the  lot  of  its 
laborers  as  nearly  as  possible  down  to  private  competition  level 
in  point  of  hard  work  and  low  wages.  But  its  power  will  be 
broken  by  the  disappearance  of  that  general  necessity  for 
keej^ing  down  the  rates  which  now  hardens  local  authority  to 

^ See  note,  p.  171. 


TRANSITION. 


177 


humane  appeals.  The  luxury  of  being  generous  at  someone 
else’s  expense  will  be  irresistible.  The  ground  landlord  will  be 
the  municipal  milch  cow ; and  the  ordinary  ratepayers  will  feel 
the  advantage  of  sleeping  in  peace,  relieved  at  once  from  the 
fear  of  increased  burdens  and  of  having  their  windows  broken 
and  their  premises  looted  by  hungry  mobs,  nuclei  of  all  the 
socialism  and  scoundrelism  of  the  city.  They  will  have  just  as 
much  remorse  in  making  the  landlord  pay  as  the  landlord  has 
had  in  making  them  pay  — just  as  much  and  no  more.  And  as 
the  municipality  becomes  more  democratic,  it  will  find  land- 
lordism losing  power,  not  only  relatively  to  democracy,  but 
absolutely. 

The  ordinary  ratepayer,  however,  will  not  remain  unaffected 
for  long.  At  the  very  outset  of  the  new  extension  of  munici- 
pal industries,  the  question  of  wage  will  arise.  A minimum 
wage  must  be  fixed  ; and  though  at  first,  to  avoid  an  over- 
whelming rush  of  applicants  for  employment,  it  must  be  made 
too  small  to  tempt  any  decently  employed  laborer  to  forsake 
his  place  and  run  to  the  municipality,  still,  it  will  not  be  the 
frankly  infernal  competition  wage.  It  will  be,  like  mediaeval 
wages,  fixed  with  at  least  some  reference  to  public  opinion  as 
to  a becoming  standard  of  comfort.  Over  and  above  this,  the 
municipality  will  have  to  pay  to  its  organisers,  managers,  and 
incidentally  necessary  skilled  workers  the  full  market  price  of 
their  ability,  minus  only  what  the  superior  prestige  and  perma- 
nence of  public  employment  may  induce  them  to  accept.  But 
whilst  these  high  salaries  will  make  no  more  disturbance  in  the 
labor  market  than  the  establishment  of  a new  joint-stock  com- 
pany would,  the  minimum  wage  for  laborers  will  affect  that 
market  perceptibly.  The  worst  sort  of  sweaters  will  find  that 
if  they  are  to  keep  their  “ hands,’’  they  must  treat  them  at 
least  as  well  as  the  municipality.  The  consequent  advance  in 
wage  will  swallow  up  the  sweater’s  narrow  margin  of  profit. 
Hence  the  sweater  must  raise  the  price  per  piece  against  the 
shops  and  wholesale  houses  for  which  he  sweats.  This  again 
will  dimmish  the  profits  of  the  wholesale  dealers  and  shopkeep- 
ers, who  will  not  be  able  to  recover  this  loss  by  raising  the 
price  of  their  wares  against  the  public,  since,  had  any  such 
step  been  possible,  they  would  have  taken  it  before.  But  for- 
tunately for  them,  the  market  value  of  their  ability  as  men  of 
business  is  fixed  by  the  same  laws  that  govern  the  prices  of 


178 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


commodities.  Just  as  the  sweater  is  worth  his  profit,  so  they 
are  worth  their  profit;  and  just  as  the  sweater  will  be  able  to 
exact  from  them  his  old  remuneration  in  spite  of  the  advance 
in  wages,  so  they  will  be  able  to  exact  their  old  remuneration 
in  spite  of  the  advance  in  sweaters’  terms.  But  from  whom,  it 
will  be  asked,  if  not  from  the  public  by  raising  the  price  of  the 
wares  ? Evidently  from  the  landlord  upon  whose  land  they 
are  organising  production.  In  other  words,  they  will  demand 
and  obtain  a reduction  of  rent.  Thus  the  organiser  of  indus- 
try, the  employer  pure  and  simple,  the  entrepreneur^  as  he  is 
often  called  in  economic  treatises  nowadays,  will  not  suffer. 
In  the  division  of  the  product  his  share  will  remain  constant ; 
whilst  the  industrious  wage-worker’s  share  will  be  increased, 
and  the  idle  proprietor’s  share  diminished.  This  will  not  adjust 
itself  without  friction  and  clamor  ; but  such  friction  is  con- 
stantly going  on  under  the  present  system  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, ^.e.,  by  the  raising  of  the  proprietor’s  share  at  the  expense 
of  the  worker’s. 

The  contraction  of  landlords’  incomes  will  necessarily  dimin- 
ish the  revenue  from  taxation  on  such  incomes.  Let  us  sup- 
pose that  the  municipality,  to  maintain  its  revenue,  puts  on  an 
additional  penny  in  the  pound.  The  effect  will  be  to  burn  the 
landlord’s  candle  at  both  ends  — obviously  not  a process  that 
can  be  continued  to  infinity.  But  long  before  taxation  fails  as 
a source  of  municipal  capital,  the  municipalities  will  have 
begun  to  save  capital  out  of  the  product  of  their  own  indus- 
tries. In  the  market  the  competition  of  those  industries  witli 
the  private  concerns  will  be  irresistible.  Unsaddled  with  a 
single  idle  person,  and  having,  therefore,  nothing  to  provide 
for  after  paying  their  employees  except  extension  of  capital, 
they  will  be  able  to  offer  wages  that  no  business  burdened  with 
the  unproductive  consumption  of  an  idle  landlord  or  sharehol- 
der could  afford,  unless  it  yielded  a heavy  rent  in  consequence 
of  some  marked  advantage  of  site.  But  even  rents,  when 
they  are  town  rents,  are  at  the  mercy  of  a municipality  in  the 
long  run.  The  masters  of  the  streets  and  the  traffic  can  nurse 
one  site  and  neglect  another.  The  rent  of  a shop  depends  on 
the  number  of  persons  passing  its  windows  per  hour.  A skil- 
fully timed  series  of  experiments  in  paving,  a new  bridge,  a 
tramway  service,  a barracks,  or  a small-pox  hospital  are  only  a 
few  of  the  circumstances  of  which  city  rents  are  the  creatures. 


TRANSITION. 


179 


The  power  of  the  municipality  to  control  these  circumstances 
is  as  obvious  as  the  impotence  of  competing  private  individuals. 
Again,  competing  private  individuals  are  compelled  to  sell 
their  produce  at  a price  equivalent  to  the  full  cost  of  production 
at  the  margin  of  cultivation.^  The  municipality  could  com- 
pete against  them  by  reducing  prices  to  the  average  cost  of 
production  over  the  whole  area  of  municipal  cultivation.  Tlie 
more  favorably  situated  private  concerns  could  only  meet  this 
by  ceasing  to  pay  rent ; the  less  favorably  situated  w^ould  suc- 
cumb witliout  remedy.  It  would  be  either  stalemate  or  check- 
mate. Private  property  would  either  become  barren,  or  it 
would  yield  to  the  actual  cultivator  of  average  ability  no  better 
an  income  than  could  be  obtained  more  securely  in  municipal 
employment.  To  the  mere  proprietor  it  would  yield  nothing. 
Eventually  the  land  and  industry  of  the  whole  town  would 
pass  by  the  spontaneous  action  of  economic  forces  into  the 
hands  of  the  municipality  ; and,  so  far,  the  problem  of  social- 
ising industry  would  be  solved. 

Private  property,  by  cheapening  the  laborer  to  the  utmost  in 
order  to  get  the  greater  surplus  out  of  him,  lowers  the  margin 
of  human  cultivation,  and  so  raises  the  ‘‘  rent  of  ability.’’  The 
most  important  form  of  that  rent  is  the  profit  of  industrial 
management.  The  gains  of  a great  portrait  painter  or  fashion- 
able physician  are  much  less  significant,  since  these  depend 
entirely  on  the  existence  of  a very  rich  class  of  patrons  sub- 
ject to  acute  vanity  and  hypochondriasis.  But  the  industrial 
organiser  is  independent  of  patrons : instead  of  merely  at- 
tracting a larger  share  of  the  product  of  industry  to  himself,  he 
increases  the  product  by  his  management.  The  market  price 
of  such  ability  depends  upon  the  relation  of  the  supply  to  the 
demand  : the  more  there  is  of  it  the  cheaper  it  is  : the  less, 
the  dearer.  Any  cause  that  increases  the  supply  lowers  the 
price.  Now  it  is  evident  that  since  a manager  must  be  a man 
of  education  and  address,  it  is  useless  to  look  ordinarily  to  the 
laboring  class  for  a supply  of  managerial  skill.  Not  one  laborer 
in  a million  succeeds  in  raising  himself  on  the  shoulders  of  his 
fellows  by  extraordinary  gifts,  or  extraordinary  luck,  or  both. 
The  managers  must  be  drawn  from  the  classes  which  enjoy 
education  and  social  culture ; and  their  price,  rapidly  as  it  is 

1 The  meaning  of  these  terms  will  be  familiar  to  readers  of  the  first 
essay. 


180 


TKANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


falling  with  the  spread  of  education  and  the  consequent  growth 
of  the  “ intellectual  proletariat,’’  is  still  high.  It  is  true  that  a 
very  able  and  highly-trained  manager  can  now  be  obtained  for 
about  £800  a year,  provided  his  post  does  not  compel  him  to 
spend  two-thirds  of  his  income  on  what  is  called  ‘‘  keeping  up 
his  position,”  instead  of  on  his  own  gratification.^  Still,  when 
it  is  considered  that  laborers  receive  less  than  £50  a year,  and 
that  the  demand  for  laborers  is  necessarily  vast  in  proportion 
to  the  demand  for  able  managers,  nay,  that  there  is  an  inverse 
ratio  between  them,  since  the  manager’s  talent  is  valuable  in 
proportion  to  quantity  of  labor  he  can  organise,  it  will  be  ad- 
mitted that  £800  a year  represents  an  immense  rent  of  ability. 
But  if  the  education  and  culture  which  are  a practically  indis- 
pensable part  of  the  equipment  of  competitors  for  such  posts 
were  enjoyed  by  millions  instead  of  thousands,  that  rent  would 
fall  considerably.  Now  the  tendency  of  private  property  is  to 
keep  the  masses  mere  beasts  of  burden.  The  tendency  of 
Social  Democracy  is  to  educate  them,  to  make  men  of  them. 
Social  Democracy  would  not  long  be  saddled  with  the  rents  of 
ability  which  liave  during  the  last  century  made  our  born  cap- 
tains of  industry  our  masters  and  tyrants  instead  of  our  ser- 
vants and  leaders.  It  is  even  conceivable  that  rent  of  mana- 
gerial ability  might  in  course  of  time  become  negative,^ 
astonishing  as  that  may  seem  to  the  many  persons  who  are  by 
this  time  so  hopelessly  confused  amid  existing  anomalies,  that 
the  proposition  that  “ whosoever  of  you  will  be  the  chiefest, 
shall  be  servant  of  all,”  strikes  them  rather  as  a Utopian  para- 
dox than  as  the  most  obvious  and  inevitable  of  social  arrange- 
ments. The  fall  in  the  rent  of  ability  will,  however,  benefit 
not  only  the  municipality,  but  also  its  remaining  private  com- 
petitors. Nevertlieless,  as  the  prestige  of  the  municipality 
grows,  and  as  men  see  more  and  more  clearly  what  the  future 
is  to  it,  able  organisers  will  take  lower  salaries  for  municipal 
tlian  for  private  employment ; whilst  those  who  can  beat  even 
tlie  municipality  at  organising,  or  who,  as  professional  men, 
can  deal  personally  with  the  public  without  the  intervention  of 

1 See  note,  p.  16. 

^ That  is,  the  manager  would  receive  less  for  his  work  than  the 
artisan.  Cases  in  which  tlie  profits  of  the  employer  are  smaller  than 
the  wages  of  the  employee  are  by  no  means  uncommon  in  certain 
grades  of  industry  where  small  traders  have  occasion  to  e mploy  skilled 
workmen. 


TKANSITlOIsr. 


181 


industrial  organisation,  will  pay  the  rent  of  their  places  of  busi- 
ness either  directly  to  the  municipality,  or  to  the  private  land- 
lord whose  income  tlie  municipality  will  absord  by  taxation. 
Finally,  when  rents  of  ability  had  reached  their  irreducible 
natural  level,  they  could  be  dealt  with  by  a progressive  Income 
Tax  in  the  very  improbable  case  of  their  proving  a serious 
social  inconvenience. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  further  into  the  economic  detail  of 
the  process  of  the  extinction  of  private  property.  Much  of 
that  process  as  sketched  here  may  be  anticipated  by  sections  of 
the  proprietary  class  successively  capitulating,  as  the  net  closes 
about  their  special  interests,  on  such  terms  as  they  may  be  able 
to  stand  out  for  before  their  power  is  entirely  broken.^ 

We  may  also  safely  neglect  for  the  moment  the  question  of 
the  development  of  the  House  of  Commons  into  the  central 
government  which  will  be  the  organ  for  federating  the  munici- 
palities, and  nationalising  inter-municipal  rents  by  an  adjust- 
ment of  the  municipal  contributions  to  imperial  taxation : in 
short,  for  discharging  national  as  distinct  from  local  business. 
One  can  see  that  the  Local  Government  Board  of  the  future  will 
be  a tremendous  affair ; that  foreign  States  will  be  deeply  affected 
by  the  reaction  of  English  progress ; that  international  trade, 
always  the  really  dominant  factor  in  foreign  policy,  will  have  to 
be  reconsidered  from  a new  point  of  view  when  profit  comes  to 
be  calculated  in  terms  of  net  social  welfare  instead  of  individual 
pecuniary  gain  ; that  our  present  system  of  imperial  aggression, 

1 Such  capitulations  occur  already  when  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer takes  advantage  of  the  fall  in  the  current  rate  of  interest  (ex- 
plained on  page  20)  to  reduce  Consols.  This  he  does  by  simply  threat- 
ening to  pay  off  the  stockholders  with  money  freshly  borrowed  at  the 
current  rate.  They,  knowing  that  they  could  not  reinvest  the  money 
on  any  better  terms  than  the  reduced  ones  offered  by  tlie  Chancellor, 
have  to  submit.  There  is  no  reason  why  the  municipalities  should  not 
secure  the  same  advantages  for  their  constituents.  For  example,  the 
inhabitants  of  London  now  pay  the  shareholders  of  the  gas  companies 
a million  and  a half  annually,  or  11  per  cent  on  the  £13,650,000  which 
the  gas  works  cost.  The  London  County  Council  could  raise  that  sum 
for  about  £400,000  a year.  By  threatening  to  do  this  and  start  muni- 
cipal gas  works,  it  could  obviously  compel  the  shareholders  to  hand 
over  their  works  for  £400,000  a year,  and  sacrifice  the  extra  8 per  cent 
now  enjoyed  by  them.  The  saving  to  the  citizens  of  London  would  be 
£1,000,000  a year,  sufficient  to  defray  the  net  cost  of  the  London  School 
Board.  Metropolitan  readers  will  find  a number  of  cognate  instances 
in  Fabian  Tract  No.  8,  Facts  for  Londoners.'' 


18.2 


TEANSITIOK  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCEACY. 


in  which,  under  pretext  of  exploration  and  colonisation,  the  flag 
follows  the  filibuster  and  trade  follows  the  flag,  with  the  mis- 
sionary bringing  up  the  rear,  must  collapse  when  the  control  of 
our  military  forces  passes  from  the  capitalist  class  to  the  people  ; 
that  the  disapperance  of  a variety  of  classes  with  a variety  of 
what  are  now  ridiculously  called  public  opinions  ” will  be 
accompanied  by  the  welding  of  society  into  one  class  with  a 
public  opinion  of  inconceivable  weight ; that  this  public  opinion 
will  make  it  for  the  first  time  possible  effectively  to  control  the 
population ; that  the  economic  independence  of  women,  and  the 
supplanting  of  the  head  of  the  household  by  the  individual  as 
the  recognized  unit  of  the  State,  will  materially  alter  the  status 
of  children  and  the  utility  of  the  institution  of  the  family ; and 
that  the  inevitable  reconstitution  of  the  State  Church  on  a dem- 
ocratic basis  may,  for  example,  open  up  the  possibility  of  the 
election  of  an  avowed  Freethinker  like  Mr.  John  Morley  or 
Mr.  Bradlaugh  to  the  deanery  of  Westminster.  All  these  things 
are  mentioned  only  for  the  sake  of  a glimpse  of  the  fertile  fields 
of  thouo^ht  and  action  which  await  us  when  the  settlement  of  our 
bread  and  butter  question  leaves  us  free  to  use  and  develop  our 
higher  faculties. 

This,  then,  is  the  humdrum  programme  of  the  practical  Social 
Democrat  to-day.  There  is  not  one  new  item  in  it.  All  are 
applications  of  principles  already  admitted,  and  extensions  of 
jiractices  already  in  full  activity.  All  have  on  them  that  stamp 
of  the  vestry  which  is  so  congenial  to  the  British  mind.  None 
of  them  compel  the  use  of  the  words  Socialism  or  Revolution : 
at  no  point  do  they  involve  guillotining,  declaring  the  Rights  of 
Man,  swearing  on  the  altar  of  the  country,  or  anything  else  that 
is  supposed  to  be  essentially  un-English.  And  they  are  all  sure 
to  come  — landmarks  on  our  course  already  visible  to  far-sighted 
politicians  even  of  the  party  which  dreads  them. 

Let  me,  in  conclusion,  disavow  all  admiration  for  this  inevi- 
table, but  sordid,  slow,  reluctant,  cowardly  path  to  justice.  I 
venture  to  claim  your  respect  for  those  enthusiasts  who  still 
refuse  to  believe  that  millions  of  their  fellow  creatures  must  be 
left  to  sweat  and  suffer  in  hopeless  toil  and  degradation,  whilst 
parliaments  and  vestries  grudgingly  muddle  and  grope  towards 
paltry  instalments  of  betterment.  Tlie  right  is  so  clear,  the 
wrong  so  intolerable,  the  gos})el  so  convincing,  that  it  seems  to 
them  that  it  mmt  be  possible  to  enlist  the  whole  body  of  workers 


TRANSITION. 


183 


— soldiers,  jx)licemen,  and  all  — under  the  banner  of  brotherhood 
and  equality  ; and  atone  great  stroke  to  set  Justice  on  her  right- 
ful throne.  Unfortunately,  such  an  army  of  light  is  no  more 
to  be  gathered  from  the  human  product  of  nineteenth  century 
civilisation  than  grapes  are  to  be  gathered  from  thistles.  But 
if  we  feel  glad  of  that  impossibility  ; if  we  feel  relieved  that  the 
change  is  to  be  slow  enough  to  avert  personal  risk  to  ourselves  ; 
if  we  feel  anything  less  than  acute  disappointment  and  bitter 
humiliation  at  the  discovery  that  there  is  yet  between  us  and 
the  promised  land  a wilderness  in  which  many  must  perish 
miserably  of  want  and  despair  : then  I submit  to  you  that  our 
institutions  have  corrupted  us  to  the  most  dastardly  degree  of 
selfishness.  The  Socialists  need  not  be  ashamed  of  beginning 
as  they  did  by  proposing  militant  organisation  of  the  working 
classes  and  general  insurrection.  The  proposal  proved  imprac- 
ticable; and  it  has  now  been  abandoned  — not  without  some 
outspoken  regrets  — by  English  Socialists.  But  it  still  remains 
as  the  only  finally  possible  alternative  to  the  Social  Democratic 
programme  which  I have  sketched  to-day. 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


BY  HUBERT  BLAND. 

Mr.  Webb’s  historical  review  brought  us  from  the  break 
up  of  the  old  synthesis”  (his  own  phrase),  a social  system 
founded  on  a basis  of  religion,  a common  belief  in  a divine  order, 
to  the  point  where  perplexed  politicians,  recognising  the  futility 
of  the  principle  of  Individualism  to  keep  the  industrial  machine 
in  working  order,  with  ‘‘  freedom  of  contract  ” upon  their  lips 
spent  their  nights  in  passing  Factory  Acts,  and  devoted  their 
fiscal  ingenuity  to  cutting  slice  after  slice  off  incomes  derived 
from  rent  and  interest.  His  paper  was  an  inductive  demonstra- 
tion of  the  failure  of  anarchy  to  meet  the  needs  of  real  concrete 
men  and  women  — a proof  from  history  that  the  world  moves 
from  system,  through  disorder,  back  again  to  system. 

Mr.  Clarke  showed  us,  also  by  the  historic  method,  that  given 
a few  more  years  of  economic  progress  on  present  lines,  and  we 
shall  reach,  via  the  Ring  and  the  Trust,  that  period  of  ‘‘  well 
defined  confrontation  of  the  rich  and  poor  ” upon  which  German 
thought  has  settled  as  the  brief  stage  of  sociological  evolution 
immediately  preceding  organic  change. 

The  truth  of  this  postulate  of  Teutonic  philosophers  and 
economists  no  one  who  has  given  to  it  a moment’s  serious 
thought  is  likely  to  call  in  question.  Nor  does  anyone  who  has 
followed  the  argument  developed  in  these  lectures  believe  that 
the  transition  from  mitigated  individualism  to  full  collectivity 
can  be  made  until  the  capitalist  system  has  worked  itself  out  to 
its  last  logical  expression.  Till  then,  no  political  or  social  up- 
heaval, however  violent,  nay,  even  though  the  physical  force 
revolutionists  ” should  chase  the  Guards  helter-skelter  down 
Parliament  Street  and  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Fabian 
Society  hold  its  meetings  in  the  Council  Chamber  of  Windsor 
Castle,  will  be  anything  more  than  one  of  those  transient  riots,” 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


185 


spoken  of  by  Mrs.  Besant,  which  merdy  upset  thrones  and 
behead  monarchs.”^  All  sociologists  I think,  all  Socialists  I am 
sure,  are  agreed  that  until  the  economic  moment  has  arrived, 
although  the  hungry  or  the  ignorant  may  kick  up  a dust  in 
Whitechapel  and  make  a bloody  puddle  in  Trafalgar  Square, 
the  Social  Revolution  is  impossible.  But  I,  for  my  part,  do  not 
believe  in  the  even  temporary  rout  of  the  Household  Brigade, 
nor  indeed  in  any  popular  outbreak  not  easily  suppressible  by 
the  Metropolitan  police  ; and  I shall  waste  no  time  in  discussing 
that  solution  of  the  social  problem  of  which  more  was  heard  in 
the  salad  days  of  the  English  Socialist  movement- — in  its  pre- 
Fabian  era  — than  now,  viz,^  physical  force  employed  by  a vig- 
orous few.  The  physical  force  man,  like  the  privileged  Tory, 
has  failed  to  take  note  of  the  flux  of  things,  and  to  recognise  the 
change  brought  about  by  the  ballot.  Under  a lodger  franchise 
the  barricade  is  the  last  resort  of  a small  and  desperate  minority, 
a frank  confession  of  despair,  a reduction  to  absurdity  of  the 
whole  Socialist  case.  Revolutionary  heroics,  natural  and  un- 
blameable  enough  in  exuberant  puerility,  are  imbecile  babblement 
in  muscular  adolescence,  and  in  manhood  would  be  criminal 
folly. 

Let  us  assume  then  that  the  present  economic  progress  will 
continue  on  its  present  lines.  That  machinery  will  go  on  re- 
placing hand  labor  ; that  the  joint-stock  company  will  absorb 
the  private  firm,  to  be,  in  its  turn,  swallowed  up  in  the  Ring 
and  the  Trust.  That  thus  the  smaller  producers  and  distributors 
will  gradually,  but  at  a constantly  increasing  pace,  be  squeezed 
out  and  reduced  to  the  condition  of  employees  of  great  indus- 
trial and  trade  corporations,  managed  by  highly  skilled  captains 
of  industry,  in  the  interests  of  idle  shareholders. 

In  a parliamentarian  State  like  ours,  the  economic  cleavage, 
which  divides  the  proprietors  from  the  propertyless,  ever  grow- 
ing wider  and  more  clearly  defined,  must  have  its  analogue  in 
the  world  of  politics.  The  revolution  of  the  last  century, 
which  ended  in  the  installation  of  the  Grand  Industry,  was  the 
last  of  the  great  unconscious  world  changes.  It  was  helped  by 
legislation  of  course ; but  the  help  was  only  of  the  negative 
and  destructive  sort.  ‘‘  Break  our  fetters  and  let  us  alone,” 

1 It  is  to  the  half-conscious  recognition  of  this  generalisation  that 
the  disappearance  of  militant  Republicanism  among  the  English  work- 
ing classes  is  owing. 


186 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


was  the  cry  of  the  revolutionists  to  Parliament.  The  law- 
makers, not  knowing  quite  what  they  were  doing,  responded, 
and  then  blythely  contracted  debts,  and  voted  money  for  com- 
mercial wars.  Such  a sight  will  never  be  seen  again.  The 
repeated  extension  of  the  suffrage  has  done  more  than  make 
the  industrial  masses  articulate,  it  has  given  them  conscious- 
ness ; and  for  the  future  the  echo  of  the  voices  of  those  who 
suffer  from  economic  changes  will  be  heard  clamoring  for  relief 
within  the  walls  of  St.  Stephen’s  and  the  urban  guildhalls. 

Thus  the  coming  struggle  between  haves  ” and  have 
nots  ” will  be  a conflict  of  parties,  each  perfectly  conscious  of 
what  it  is  fighting  about  and  fully  alive  to  the  life  and  death 
importance  of  the  issues  at  stake. 

I say  will  be  ” ; for  one  has  only  to  read  a few  speeches  of 
political  leaders  or  attend  a discussion  at  a workman’s  club  to 
be  convinced  that  at  present  it  is  only  the  keener  and  more 
alert  minds  on  either  side  which  are  more  than  semi-conscious 
of  the  true  nature  of  the  campaign  of  which  the  first  shots  may 
even  now  be  heard  at  every  bye-election. 

But  as  nothing  makes  one  so  entirely  aware  of  one’s  own 
existence  as  a sharp  spasm  of  pain  ; so  it  is  to  the  suffering  — 
the  hunger,  the  despair  of  to-morrow’s  dinner,  the  anxiety  about 
the  next  new  pair  of  trousers  — wrought  by  the  increasing 
economic  pressure  upon  the  enfranchised  and  educated  pro- 
letariat that  we  must  look  to  aw^aken  that  free  self-conscious- 
ness which  will  give  the  economic  changes  political  expression 
and  enable  the  worker  to  make  practical  use  of  the  political 
weapons  which  are  his. 

The  outlook  then  from  the  point  of  view  of  this  paper  is  a 
political  one  — one  in  which  we  should  expect  to  see  the  world 
political  gradually  becoming  a reflex  of  the  world  economic. 
That  political  should  be  slow  in  coming  into  line  with  eco- 
nomic facts  is  only  in  accordance  with  all  that  the  past  history 
of  our  country  has  to  teach  us.  For  years  and  decades  the 
squirearchy  retained  an  influence  in  the  House  of  Commons 
out  of  all  proportion  to  its  potency  as  an  economic  force  ; and 
even  at  this  moment  the  landed  interest  ” bears  a much  larger 
part  in  law-making  than  that  to  which  its  real  importance 
entitles  it.  Therefore  we  must  be  neither  surprised  nor  dis- 
pirited if,  in  a cold-blooded  envisagement  of  the  condition  of 
English  parties,  the  truth  is  borne  in  upon  us  that  the  pace  of 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


187 


political  progress  has  no  proper  relation  to  the  rate  at  which 
we  are  travelling  towards  Socialism  in  the  spheres  of  thought 
and  industry. 

This  fact  is  probably  — nay  almost  certainly — very  much 
more  patent  to  the  Socialist  and  the  political  student  than  to 
the  man  in  the  street,  or  even  to  him  of  the  first  class  railway 
carriage.  The  noisy  jubilation  of  the  Radical  press  over  the 
victory  of  a Home  Ruler  at  a bye-election,  at  a brief  and  vague 
reference  to  the  “ homes  of  the  people  ’’  in  a two  hours’  speech 
from  a Liberal  leader,  or  at  the  insertion  of  a social  ” plank 
in  a new  annual  programme,  is  well  and  cleverly  calculated  to 
beguile  the  ardent  Democrat,  and  strike  cold  terror  to  the  heart 
of  the  timorous  Tory.  But  a perfectly  impartial  analysis  of 
the  present  state  of  parties  will  convince  the  most  sanguine 
that  the  breath  of  the  great  economic  changes  dealt  with  in  Mr. 
Clarke’s  paper  has  as  yet  scarcely  ruffled  the  surface  of  the 
House  of  Commons. 

When  the  syllabus  of  this  course  of  lectures  was  drawn  up, 
those  who  were  responsible  for  it  suggested  as  the  first  sub- 
heading of  this  paper,  the  well  worn  phrase,  “ The  disappearance 
of  the  Whig.”  It  is  a happy  expression,  and  one  from  the 
contemplation  of  which  much  comfort  may  be  derived  by  an 
optimistic  and  un analytical  temperament.  Printed  are  at  this 
disadvantage  compared  with  spoken  words,  they  fail  to  convey 
the  nicer  nuances  of  meaning  bestowed  by  tone  and  emphasis ; 
and  thus  the  word  disappearance  ” meets  the  eye,  carrying 
with  it  no  slightest  suggestion  of  irony.  Yet  the  phrase  is 
pointless,  if  not  meant  surcarstic  ” ; for  so  far  is  the  Whig  from 

disappearing,”  that  he  is  the  greatest  political  fact  of  the  day. 
To  persons  deafened  by  the  daily  democratic  shouting  of  the 
Radical  newspapers  this  assertion  may  require  some  confirma- 
tion and  support.  Let  us  look  at  the  facts  then.  The  first 
thing  which  strikes  us  in  connexion  with  the  present  Parliament 
is  that  it  no  longer  consists  of  two  distinct  parties,  ^.  e.,  of  two 
bodies  of  men  differentiated  from  each  other  by  the  holding  of 
fundamentally  different  principles.  Home  Rule  left  out,^  there 

1 The  difference  of  principle  here  is  more  apparent  than  real.  The 
Gladstonians  repudiate  any  desire  for  separation,  and  affirm  their  in- 
tention of  maintaining  the  absolute  veto  of  the  imperial  Parliament ; 
while  the  Unionists  avow  their  ultimate  intention  of  giving  to  Ireland 
the  same  powers  of  self-government  now  enjoyed,  or  to  be  enjoyed  by 
England  and  Scotland. 


188 


TRAKSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


remains  no  reason  whatever,  except  the  (jiiite  minor  (question 
of  Disestablishment,  why  even  the  simulacrum  of  party  organi- 
sation should  be  maintained,  or  why  the  structural  arrange- 
ments of  the  House  of  Commons  should  not  be  so  altered  as  to 
resemble  those  of  a town  hall,  in  which  all  the  seats  face  the 
chair. 

But  fifty  years  ago  the  floor  of  the  House  was  a frontier  of 
genuine  significance  ; and  the  titles  Whig  ” and  Tory  ” were 
word-symbols  of  real  inward  and  spiritual  facts.  The  Tory 
party  was  mostly  made  up  of  men  who  were  conscientiously 
opposed  to  popular  representation,  and  prepared  to  stand  or  fall 
by  their  opposition.  They  held,  as  a living  political  creed,  that 
the  government  of  men  was  the  eternal  heritage  of  the  rich,  and 
especially  of  those  whose  riches  spelt  rent.  The  Whigs,  on  the 
other  hand,  believed,  or  said  they  believed,  in  the  aphorism 
“ Vox populi^  vox  Dei'' ; and  they,  on  the  whole,  consistently 
advocated  measures  designed  to  give  that  voice  a distincter  and 
louder  utterance.  Here,  then,  was  one  of  those  fundamental 
difterences  in  the  absence  of  which  party  nomenclature  is  a 
sham.  But  there  was  another.  In  the  first  half  of  this  century 
the  Tories,  hidebound  in  historic  traditions  and  deaf  to  the  knell 
of  the  old  regime  tolling  in  the  thud,  thud,  of  the  piston  rods  of 
the  new  steam  engines,  clung  pathetically  to  the  old  idea  of  the 
functions  of  the  State  and  to  territorial  rights.  The  Whigs 
went  for  laisser  faire  and  the  consequent  supremacy  of  the  busi- 
ness man.  I am  making  a perfectly  provable  proposition  when 
I say  that  all  the  political  disputes  ^ which  arose  between  the 
Revolution  of  1688  and  the  enfranchisement  of  the  £10  house- 
holder by  Disraeli  had  their  common  cause  in  one  of  these  two 
root  differences.  But  the  battle  has  long  ago  been  lost  and 
won.  The  Whigs  have  triumphed  all  along  the  line.  The 
Tories  have  not  only  been  beaten,  they  have  been  absorbed.  A 
process  has  gone  on  like  that  described  by  Macaulay  as  follow- 
ing on  the  Norman  invasion,  when  men  gradually  ceased  to  call 
themselves  Saxon  and  Norman  and  proudly  boasted  of  being 
English.  The  difference  in  the  case  before  us  is  that  while  the 
Tories  have  accepted  the  whole  of  the  Whig  j)rmciples  they  still 
abjure  the  Whig  name. 

1 The  battles  for  Catholic  Emancipation  and  the  removal  of  the 
religious  disabilities  were  fought  on  sectarian  rather  than  on  political 
grounds. 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


189 


No  so-called  Conservative  to-day  will  venture  on  opposing 
an  extension  of  tlie  franchise  on  the  plain  ground  of  principle. 
At  most  he  will  but  temporise  and  plead  for  delay.  No  blush 
of  conscious  inconsistency  suffused  Mr.  Ritchie’s  swarthy  feat- 
ures when  introducing  liis  “ frankly  democratic  ” Local  Gov- 
ernment Bill.  And  rightly  not ; for  he  was  doing  no  violence 
to  party  principles. 

In  the  matter  of  the  functions  of  the  State,  the  absorption  of 
the  Tory  is  not  quite  so  obvious,  because  there  never  has  been, 
and,  as  long  as  society  lasts,  never  can  be,  a j>arti  serieux  of 
logical  laisser  fair e.  Even  in  the  thick  of  the  Industrial  Revo- 
lution, the  difference  between  the  two  great  parties  was  mainly 
one  of  tendency  — of  attitude  of  mind.  The  Tory  had  a cer- 
tain affection  for  the  State  — a natural  self-love : the  Whig 
distrusted  it.  This  distrust  is  now  the  sentiment  of  the  whole 
of  our  public  men.  They  see,  some  of  them  perhaps  more 
clearly  than  others,  that  there  is  much  the  State  must  do ; but 
they  all  wish  that  much  to  be  as  little  as  possible.  Even  when, 
driven  by  an  irresistible  force  which  they  feel  but  do  not  under- 
stand (which  none  but  the  Socialist  does  or  can  understand), 
they  bring  forward  measures  for  increasing  the  power  of  the 
whole  over  the  part,  their  arguments  are  always  suffused  in  a 
sickly  halo  of  apology : their  gestures  are  always  those  of  tim- 
orous deprecation  and  fretful  diffidence.  They  are  always  ner- 
vously anxious  to  explain  that  the  proposal  violates  no 
principle  of  political  economy,  and  with  them  political 
economy  means,  not  Professor  Sidgwick,  but  Adam  Smith. 

The  reason  why  this  unanimity  of  all  prominent  politicians 
on  great  fundamental  principles  is  not  manifest  to  the  mind  of 
the  average  man  is  that,  although  there  is  nothing  left  to  get 
hot  or  even  moderately  warm  about,  the  political  temperature 
is  as  high  as  ever.  It  is  not  in  the  dust  of  the  arena,  but  only 
in  the  repose  of  the  auditorium  that  one  is  able  to  realise  tliat 
men  will  ffght  as  fiercely  and  clapper-claw  each  other  as  spite- 
fully over  a dry  bone  as  over  a living  principle.  One  has  to 
stand  aside  awhile  to  see  that  politicians  are  like  the  theologi- 
cal controversialists  of  whom  Professor  Seeley  somewhere  says 
that  they  never  get  so  angry  with  each  other  as  when  their  dif- 
ferences are  almost  imperceptible,  except  perhaps  when  they 
are  quite  so. 

Both  the  efficient  and  the  final  cause  of  this  unanimity  is  a 


190 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


sort  of  unconscious  or  semi-conscious  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  the  word  State  has  taken  to  itself  new  and  diverse  con- 
notations, that  the  State  idea  has  changed  its  content.  Whah 
ever  State  control  may  have  meant  fifty  years  ago  it  never 
meant  hostility  to  private  property  as  such.  Now,  for  us,  and 
for  as  far  ahead  as  we  can  see,  it  means  that  and  little  else.  So 
long  as  the  State  interfered  with  the  private  property  and  pow- 
ers of  one  set  of  proprietors  with  a view  only  to  increasing 
those  of  another,  the  existence  of  parties  for  and  against  such 
interference  was  a necessity  of  the  case.  A duty  on  foreign 
corn  meant  the  keeping  up  of  incomes  drawn  from  rent  its 
abolition  meant  a rise  of  manufacturers’  profits.  “Free 
Trade”  swelled  the  purses  of  the  new  bourgeoisie  : the  Factory 
Acts  depleted  them,  and  gave  a sweet  revenge  to  the  rent- 
docked  squire.  But  of  this  manipulation  of  the  legislative 
machine  for  proprietors’  purposes  we  are  at,  or  at  least  in  sight 
of,  the  end.  The  State  has  grown  bigger  by  an  immense  aggre- 
gation of  units,  who  were  once  to  all  intents  and  purposes  sep- 
arate from  it ; and  now  its  action  generally  points  not  to  a 
readjustment  of  private  property  and  privileges  as  between 
class  and  class,  but  to  their  complete  disappearance.  So  then 
the  instinct  which  is  welding  together  the  propertied  politicians 
is  truly  self-preservative. 

But,  it  may  be  asked  by  the  bewildered  Radical,  by  the 
tremulous  Conservative,  by  the  optimistic  Socialist,  if  the 
political  leaders  are  really  opposed  to  State  augmentation,  how 
comes  it  that  every  new  measure  of  reform  introduced  into  the 
House  of  Commons  is  more  or  less  colored  with  Socialism,  and 
that  no  popular  speaker  will  venture  to  address  a public  meet- 
ing without  making  some  reference  of  a socialistic  sort  to  the 
social  problem  ? Why,  for  instance,  does  that  extremely  well 
oiled  and  accurately  poised  political  weathercock.  Sir  William 
Ilarcourt,  pointing  to  the  dawn,  crow  out  that  “ we  are  all  So- 
cialists now  ” ? 

To  these  questions  (and  I have  not  invented  them)  I answer  : 
in  the  first  place  because  the  opposition  of  the  political  leaders 
is  instinctive,  and  only,  as  yet,  semi-conscious,  even  in  the 
most  hypocritical ; in  the  second  place,  that  a good  deal  of  the 

1 This  is  perhaps  not,  historically,  quite  true ; but  the  landlords  be- 
lieved that  tlieir  own  prosperity  depended  upon  the  exclusion  of  foreign 
corn,  and  that  is  sufficient  for  the  purpose  of  my  argument. 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


191 


legislative  Socialism  appears  more  in  words  than  in  deeds  ; in 
the  third  place  that  the  famous  flourish  of  Sir  William  liar- 
court  was  a rhetorical  falsehood ; and  fourthly,  because,  fortu- 
nately for  the  progress  of  mankind,  self-preservative  instincts 
are  not  peculiar  to  the  pro})ertied  classes. 

For  it  is  largely  instinctive  and  wholly  self  preservative, 
this  change  in  the  position  of  the  working  people  towards  tlie 
State,  this  change  by  which,  from  fearing  it  as  an  actual 
enemy,  they  have  come  to  look  to  it  as  a potential  savior.  1 
know  that  this  assertion  will  be  violently  denied  by  many  of 
my  Socialist  brethren.  The  fly  on  the  wheel,  not  unnaturally, 
feels  wounded  at  being  told  that  he  is,  after  all,  not  the  motive 
power;  and  the  igniferous  orators  of  the  Socialist  party  are 
welcome,  so  far  as  1 am  concerned,  to  all  the  comfort  they  can 
get  from  imagining  that  they,  and  not  any  great,  blind,  evolu- 
tionary forces  are  the  dynamic  of  the  social  revolution. 
Besides,  the  metaphor  of  the  fly  really  does  not  run  on  all 
fours  (I  forget,  for  the  moment,  how  many  legs  a fly  has)  ; for 
the  Socialist  does  at  least  know  in  what  direction  the  car  is 
going,  even  though  he  is  not  the  driving  force.  Yet  it  seems 
to  me  the  part  being,  and  to  be,  played  by  the  Socialist,  is  not- 
able enough  in  all  conscience ; for  it  is  he  who  is  turning 
instinct  into  self-conscious  reason  ; voicing  a dumb  demand ; 
and  giving  intelligent  direction  to  a thought  wave  of  terrific 
potency. 

There  is  a true  cleavage  being  slowly  driven  through  the 
body  politic ; but  the  wedge  is  still  beneath  the  surface.  The 
signs  of  its  workings  are  to  be  found  in  the  reactionary  meas- 
ures of  pseudo  reform  advocated  by  many  prominent  politi- 
cians ; in  the  really  Socialist  proposals  of  some  of  the  obscurer 
men ; in  the  growing  distaste  of  the  political  club  man  for  a 
purely  political  pabulum ; and  in  the  receptive  attitude  of  a 
certain  portion  of  the  cultivated  middle  class  towards  the  out- 
pourings of  the  Fabian  Society. 

This  conscious  recognition  of  the  meaning  of  modern  ten- 
dencies, this  defining  of  the  new  line  of  cleavage,  while  it  is 
the  well-spring  of  most  of  the  Socialist  hopes,  is  no  less  the 
source  of  some  lively  fear.  At  present  it  is  only  the  acuter 
and  more  far  seeing  of  the  minds  amongst  the  propertied 
classes  who  are  at  all  alive  to  the  real  nature  of  tlie  attack. 
One  has  but  to  listen  to  the  chatter  of  the  average  Liberal  can- 


192 


TEANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


didate,  to  note  how  hopelessly  blind  the  man  is  to  the  fact  that 
the  existence  of  private  property  in  the  means  of  production, 
forms  any  factor  at  all  in  the  social  problem  ; and  what  is 
true  of  the  rank  and  file  is  true  only  in  a less  des^ree  of  the 
chiefs  themselves.  Ignorance  of  economics  and  inability  to 
shake  their  minds  free  of  eighteenth  century  political  phil- 
osophy,^  at  present  hinders  the  leaders  of  the  ‘‘party  of 
progress  ’’  from  taking  up  a definite  position  either  for  or 
against  the  advance  of  the  new  ideas.  The  number  of  Eng- 
lish statesmen,  who,  like  Prince  Bismarck,  see  in  Socialism  a 
swelling  tide  whose  oceanic  rush  must  be  broken  by  timely 
legislative  breakwaters,  is  still  only  to  be  expressed  by  a minus 
quantity.  But  this  political  myopia  is  not  destined  to  endure. 
Every  additional  vote  cast  for  avowed  Socialist  candidates 
at  municipal  and  other  elections,  will  help  to  bring  home  to 
the  minds  of  the  Liberals,  that  the  section  of  the  new 
democracy  which  regards  the  ballot  merely  as  a war-engine 
with  which  to  attack  capitalism,  is  a growing  one.  At  last 
our  Liberal  will  be  face  to  face  with  a logical  but  irritating 
choice.  Either  to  throw  over  private  capital  or  to  frankly 
acknowledge  that  it  is  a distinction  without  a difference  which 
separates  him  from  the  Conservatives,  against  whom  he  has 
for  years  been  fulminating. 

At  first  sight  it  looks  as  though  this  political  moment  in  the 
history  of  the  Liberal  party  would  be  one  eminently  auspicious 
for  the  Socialist  cause.  But  although  I have  a lively  faith  in 
the  victory  of  logic  in  the  long  run,  I have  an  equally  vivid 
knowledge,  that  to  assure  the  triumph  the  run  must  be  a very 
long  one ; and  above  all  I have  a profound  respect  for  the  stay- 
ing powers  of  politicians,  and  their  ability  to  play  a waiting 
game.  It  is  one  thing  to  offer  a statesman  the  choice  of  one  of 
two  logical  courses : it  is  another  to  prevent  his  seeing  a third, 
and  an  illogical  one,  and  going  for  it.  Such  prevention  in  the 
present  case  will  be  so  difficult  as  to  be  well  nigh  impossible  ; 
for  the  Liberal  hand  still  holds  a strong  suit  — the  cards  politi- 
cal. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  the  social  programme  of  our  party 
will  become  a great  fact  long  before  all  the  purely  political  pro- 

1 Cf.  The  speeches  of  Mr.  John  Morley  on  the  eight  hours’  proposal 
and  the  taxation  of  ground  rents.  Also  the  recent  writings  of  Mr.  Brad- 
laugli,  passim. 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


193 


posals  of  the  Liberals  have  received  the  Royal  assent ; and  the 
game  of  the  politician  will  be  to  hinder  the  adoption  of  the 
former  by  noisily  hustling  forward  the  latter.  Unfortunately  for 
us  it  will  be  an  easy  enough  game  to  play.  The  scent  of  the 
non-Socialist  politician  for  political  red  herrings  is  keen,  and  his 
appetite  for  political  Dead  Sea  fruit  prodigious.  The  number 
of  ‘‘blessed  words,”  the  mere  sound  of  wiiich  carries  content  to 
his  soul,  would  fill  a whole  page.  In  an  age  of  self-seeking  his 
pathetic  self-abnegation  would  be  refreshing  tvere  it  not  so 
desperately  silly.  The  young  artizan  on  five-and- twenty  shill- 
ings a week,  who  with  his  wife  and  children  occupies  two  rooms 
in  “ a model,”  and  who  is  about  as  likely  to  become  a Lama  as 
a leaseholder,  will  shout  himself  hoarse  over  Leaseliolds’  En- 
franchisement, and  sweat  great  drops  of  indignation  at  the 
plunder  of  rich  West  End  tradesmen  by  rich  West  End  land- 
lords. The  “ out  of  work,”  whose  last  shirt  is  in  pawn,  will 
risk  his  skull’s  integrity  in  Trafalgar  Square  in  defence  of  Mr. 
O’Brien’s  claim  to  dress  in  gaol  like  a gentleman. 

Of  course  all  tliis  is  very  touching  : indeed,  to  be  quite  serious, 
it  indicates  a nobility  of  character  and  breadth  of  human  sym- 
pathy in  which  lies  our  hope  of  social  salvation.  But  its  infinite 
potentiality  must  not  blind  us  to  tJie  fact  that  in  its  actuality 
the  dodgy  Liberal  will  see  his  chance  of  the  indefinite  postpone- 
ment of  the  socialising  of  politics.  Manhood  suffrage,  female 
suffrage,  the  woes  of  deceased  wives’  sisters,  the  social  ambition 
of  dissenting  ministers,  the  legal  obstacles  to  the  “free”  ac- 
quirement of  landed  proj^erty,  home  rule  for  “ dear  old  Scot- 
land” and  “neglected  little  Wales,”  extraordinary  tithes, 
reform  of  the  House  of  Lords  : all  these  and  any  number  of 
other  obstacles  may  be  successfully  thrown  in  the  way  of  the 
forward  march  of  the  Socialist  army.  And  the  worst  of  it  all 
is  that  in  a great  part  of  his  obstructive  tactics  the  Liberal  will 
have  us  on  tlie  hip  ; for  to  out-and-out  democratisation  we  are 
fully  pledged,  and  must  needs  back  up  any  attack  on  hereditary 
or  class  privilege,  come  it  from  what  quarter  it  may. 

But,  to  get  back  to  our  metaphor  of  the  card  table  (a  meta- 
phor much  more  applicable  to  the  games  of  political  men),  the 
political  suit  does  not  exhaust  the  Liberal  hand.  There  still 
remains  a card  to  play  — a veritable  trump.  Sham  Socialhm 
is  the  name  of  it,  and  Mr.  John  Morley  the  man  to  plank  it 
down. 


194 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


I have  said  above  that  the  trend  of  things  to  Socialism  is  best 
shewn  by  the  changed  attitude  of  men  towards  State  interference 
and  control;  and  this  is  true.  Still  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
although  Socialism  involves  State  control,  State  control  does  not 
imply  Socialism  — at  least  in  any  modern  meaning  of  the  term. 
It  is  not  so  much  to  the  thing  the  State  does,  as  to  the  end  for 
which  it  does  it  that  we  must  look  before  we  can  decide  whether 
it  is  a Socialist  State  or  not.  Socialism  is  the  common  holding 
of  the  means  of  production  and  exchange,  and  the  holding  of  them 
for  the  equal  benefit  of  all.  In  view  of  the  tone  now  being 
adopted  by  some  of  us  ^ I cannot  too  strongly  insist  upon  the 
importance  of  this  distinction  ; for  the  losing  sight  of  it  by  friends, 
and  its  intentional  obscuration  by  enemies,  constitute  a big  and 
immediate  danger.  To  bring  forward  sixpenny  telegrams  as  an 
instance  of  State  Socialism  may  be  a very  good  method  of  scor- 
ing a point  off  an  individualist  opponent  in  a debate  before  a 
middle-class  audience  ; but  from  the  standpoint  of  the  proletariat 
a piece  of  State  management  which  spares  the  pockets  only  of 
the  commercial  and  leisured  classes  is  no  more  Socialism  than 
were  the  droits  de  Seigneur  of  the  middle  ages.  Yet  this  is  the 
sort  of  sham  Socialism  which  it  is  as  certain  as  death  will  be 
doled  out  by  the  popular  party  in  the  hope  that  mere  State 
action  will  be  mistaken  for  really  Socialist  legislation.  And 
the  object  of  these  givers  of  Greek  gifts  will  most  infallibly  be 
attained  if  those  Socialists  who  know  what  they  want  hesitate 
(from  fear  of  losing  popularity,  or  from  any  more  amiable  weak- 
ness) to  clamor  their  loudest  against  any  and  every  proposal 
whose  adoption  would  prolong  the  life  of  private  capital  a single 
hour. 

But  leaving  sham  Socialism  altogether  out  of  account,  there 
are  other  planks  in  tlie  Liberal  “ and  Radical  ” programme 
whicli  would  make  stubborn  barriers  in  the  paths  of  the 
destroyers  of  private  ca})ital.  Should,  for  instance.  Church 
disestablishment  come  upon  us  while  the  personnel  of  the 
House  of  Commons  is  at  all  like  what  it  is  at  present,  few 
things  are  more  certain  than  that  a good  deal  of  what  is  now 
essentially  collective  property  will  pass  into  private  hands ; 
that  the  number  of  individuals  interested  in  upholding  owner- 

1 One  of  the  most  indefatigahle  and  prolific  momhers  of  the  Socialist 
])arty,  in  a widely  circulated  ti*act,  has  actually  adduc(*d  the  existence 
of  hawkers^  licenses  as  an  instance  of  the  “ ITogress  of  Socialism’' ! 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


195 


ship  will  be  increased ; and  that  the  only  feelings  gratified 
will  be  the  acquisitiveness  of  these  persons  and  the  envy  of 
Little  Bethel. 

Again,  the  general  state  of  mind  of  the  Radical  on  the  land 
question  is  hardly  such  as  to  make  a Socialist  hilarious.  It  is 
true  your  “ progressive  ’’  will  cheer  Henry  George,  and  is  sym- 
pathetically inclined  to  nationalisation  (itself  a “ blessed  word  ”)  ; 
but  he  is  not  at  all  sure  that  nationalisation,  free  land,  and 
peasant  proprietorship,  are  not  three  names  for  one  and  the 
same  proposal.  And,  so  far  as  the  effective  members  of  the 
Liberal  party  are  concerned,  there  is  no  question  at  all  that  the 
second  and  third  of  these  ‘‘  solutions  ” find  much  more  favor 
than  the  first.  In  fact,  in  this  matter  of  the  land,  the  method 
of  dealing  with  which  is  of  the  very  propaedeutics  of  Socialism, 
the  Radical  who  goes  for  free  sale  ” or  for  peasant  ownership, 
is  a less  potent  revolutionary  force  than  the  Tory  himself  ; for 
this  latter  only  seeks  to  maintain  in  land  the  state  of  things 
which  the  Ring  and  Trust  maker  is  working  to  bring  about  in 
capital  ^ — and  on  the  part  which  he  is  playing  in  economic 
evolution  we  are  all  agreed. 

From  such  dangers  as  these  the  progress  of  Democracy  is,  by 
itself,  powerless  to  save  us  ; for  although  always  and  everywhere 
Democracy  holds  Socialism  in  its  womb,  the  birth  may  be 
indefinitely  delayed  by  stupidity  on  one  side  and  acuteness  on 
the  other. 

I have  gone  at  some  length  into  an  analysis  of  the  possible 
artificial  hindrances  to  Socialism,  because,  owing  to  the  amia- 
bility and  politeness  shown  us  by  the  Radical  left  wing  during 
the  last  twelve  months  ; to  the  successes  which  Radical  votes 
have  given  to  some  of  our  candidates  at  School  Board  and  other 
elections ; and  to  the  friendly  patronage  bestowed  upon  us  by 
certain  “ advanced  ” journals,  some  of  our  brightest,  and  other- 
wise most  clear-sighted,  spirits  have  begun  to  base  high  hopes 
upon  what  they  call  “ the  permeation  of  the  Liberal  party. 
These  of  our  brothers  have  a way  of  telling  us  that  the  transi- 
tion to  Socialism  will  be  so  gradual  as  to  be  imperceptible,  and 
that  there  will  never  come  a day  when  we  shall  be  able  to  say 

^ It  is  worth  noting  that  those  organs  of  the  press  which  are  devoted 
more  particularly  to  the  landed  interest  have  been  the  first  to  hint  at 
the  probable  desirability  of  dealing  with  great  industrial  monopolies  by 
means  of  legislation. 


196 


TKANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCKACY. 


now  we  have  a Socialist  State.’’  They  are  fond  of  likening 
the  simpler  among  us  who  disagree  with  them  as  to  the  extreme 
protraction  of  the  process,  to  children  who  having  been  told  that 
when  it  rains  a cloud  falls,  looks  disappointedly  out  of  the 
window  on  a wet  day,  unconscious  that  the  cloud  is  falling  be- 
fore their  eyes  in  the  shape  of  drops  of  water.  To  these 
cautious  souls  I reply  that  although  there  is  much  truth  in 
tlieir  contention  that  the  process  will  be  gradual,  we  shall  be 
able  to  say  that  we  have  a Socialist  State  on  the  day  on  which 
no  man  or  group  of  men  holds,  over  the  means  of  production, 
property  rights  by  which  the  labor  of  the  producers  can  be  sub- 
jected to  exploitation  ; and  that  while  their  picturesque  metaphor 
is  a happy  as  well  as  a poetic  conceit,  it  depends  upon  the 
political  acumen  of  tlie  present  and  next  generation  of  Socialist 
men  whether  the  cloud  ” shall  fall  in  refreshing  Socialist 
showers  or  in  a dreary  drizzle  of  Radicalism,  bringing  with  it 
more  smuts  than  water,  fouling  everything  and  cleansing  no- 
where. 

This  permeation  of  the  Radical  Left,  undoubted  fact  though 
it  is  of  present  day  politics,  is  worth  a little  further  attention ; 
for  there  are  two  possible  and  tenable  views  as  to  its  final  out- 
come. One  is  that  it  will  end  in  the  slow  absorption  of  the 
Socialist  in  the  Liberal  party,  and  that  by  the  action  of  this 
sponge-like  organism,  the  whole  of  the  Rent  and  Interest  will 
pass  into  collective  control,  without  there  ever  having  been  a 
party  definitely  and  openly  pledged  to  that  end.  According  to 
this  theory  there  will  come  a time,  and  that  shortly,  when  the 
avowed  Socialists  and  the  much  socialised  Radicals  will  be 
strong  enough  to  hold  the  balance  in  many  constituencies,  ard 
sufficiently  powerful  in  all  to  drive  the  advanced  candidate 
many  pegs  further  than  his  own  inclination  would  take  him. 
Then,  either  by  abstention  or  by  actual  support  of  the  reaction- 
ary champion  at  elections,  they  will  be  able  to  threaten  the 
Liberals  with  certain  defeat.  The  Liberals,  being  traditionally 
squeezable  folk  (like  all  absorbent  bodies),  will  thus  be  forced 
to  make  concessions  and  to  offer  compromises  ; and  will  either 
adopt  a certain  minimum  number  of  the  Socialistic  proposals, 
or  allow  to  Socialists  a share  in  the  representation  itself.  Such 
concessions  and  compromises  will  grow  in  number  and  importance 
with  each  successive  appeal  to  the  electorate,  until  at  last  the 
game  is  won. 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


197 


Now  it  seems  to  me  that  these  hopefuls  allow  their  desires  to 
distort  their  reason.  The  personal  equation  plays  too  large  a 
part  in  the  prophecy.  They  are  generally  either  not  yet 
wholly  socialised  Radicals  or  Socialists  who  have  quite  recently 
broken  away  from  mere  political  Radicalism,  and  are  still 
largely  under  the  influence  of  party  ties  and  traditions.  They 
find  it  almost  impossible  to  believe  that  the  party  with  which 
they  acted  so  long,  so  conscientiously,  and  with  so  much  satis- 
faction to  themselves,  is,  after  all,  not  the  party  to  whicli 
belongs  the  future.  They  are  in  many  cases  on  terms  of  inti- 
mate private  friendship  with  some  of  the  lesser  lights  of  Radi- 
calism, and  occasionally  bask  in  the  patronizing  radiance  shed 
by  the  larger  luminaries.  A certain  portion  of  the  “ advanced  ” 
press  is  open  to  them  for  the  expression  of  their  views  political. 
Of  course  none  of  these  considerations  are  at  all  to  their  dis- 
credit, or  reflect  in  the  very  least  upon  their  motives  or  sincerity; 
but  they  do  color  their  judgment  and  cause  them  to  reckon 
without  their  host.  They  are  a little  apt  to  forget  that  a good 
deal  of  the  democratic  programme  has  yet  (as  I have  said 
above)  to  be  carried.  Manhood  suffrage,  the  abolition  of  the 
Lords,  disestablishment,  the  payment  of  members : all  these 
may  be,  and  are,  quite  logically  desired  by  men  who  cling  as 
pertinaciously  to  private  capital  as  the  doughtiest  knight  of  the 
Primrose  League.  Such  men  regard  the  vital  articles  of  the 
Socialist  creed  as  lying  altogether  outside  the  concrete  world  — 
“ the  sphere  of  practical  politics.’’  Meanwhile  the  Socialist 
votes  and  voices  are  well  within  that  sphere ; and  it  is  every 
day  becoming  more  evident  that  without  them  the  above-men- 
tioned aspirations  have  a meagre  chance  of  realisation.  Now, 
from  the  eminently  business-like  Liberal  stand-point,  there  is  no 
reason  whatever  why  concessions  should  not  be  made  to  the 
Socialist  at  the  polling  booth  so  long  as  none  are  asked  for  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  And  even  when  they  are  demanded, 
what  easier  than  to  make  some  burning  political  question  play 
the  part  which  Home  Rule  is  playing  now  ? Thus  an  endless 
vista  of  office  opens  before  the  glowing  eyes  of  the  practical 
politician,  those  short-sighted  eyes  which  see  so  little  beyond 
the  nose,  and  which,  at  that  distance  only,  enable  their  owner 
to  hit  the  white. 

The  Radical  is  right  as  usual  in  counting  on  the  Socialist 
alliance  up  to  a certain  point.  For  us  the  complete  democrat- 


198 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY. 


isation  of  institutions  is  a political  necessity.  But  long  before 
that  complete  democratisation  has  been  brought  about,  we  shall 
have  lost  our  patience  and  the  Radicals  their  temper. 

For  as  Mr.  Hyndman  tells  the  world  with  damnable  (but 
most  veracious)  iteration,  we  are  a growing  party.”  We  re- 
cruit by  driblets  ; but  we  do  recruit ; and  those  who  come  to 
us  come,  like  all  the  new  American  newspapers,  to  stay.” 
Our  faith^  our  reason,  our  knowledge,  tell  us  that  the  great 
evolutionary  forces  are  with  us ; and  every  addition  to  our 
ranks  causes  us,  in  geometrical  proportion,  to  be  less  and 
less  tolerant  of  political  prevarication.  Directly  we  feel  our- 
selves strong  enough  to  have  the  slightest  chance  of  winning 
off  our  own  bat,  we  shall  be  compelled  both  by  principle 
and  inclination  to  send  an  eleven  to  the  wickets.  They  will 
have  to  face  the  opposition,  united  or  disunited,  of  both  the 
orthodox  parties,  as  did  the  defeated  Socialist  candidates  at  the 
School  Board  election  in  November,  1888.  And  whether  our 
success  be  great  or  small,  or  even  non-existent,  we  shall  be 
denounced  by  the  Radical  wire-pullers  and  the  now  so  com- 
plaisant and  courteous  Radical  press.  The  alliance  will  be  at 
an  end. 

There  is  yet  another  way  in  which  we  may  win  the  ill-will  of 
our  temporary  allies  and,  at  present,  very  good  friends.  I have 
spoken  above  of  certain  reactionary  items  of  a possible  Radi- 
cal programme,  which,  although  they  have  a grotesque  resem- 
blance to  Socialism,  are  worlds  away  from  being  the  thing 
itself.  These  proposals  we  not  only  cannot  support,  but  must 
and  shall  actively  and  fiercely  oppose.  At  the  first  signs  of 
such  opposition  to  whoever  may  be  the  Liberal  shepherd  of  the 
moment,  the  whole  flock  of  party  sheep  will  be  in  full  cry 
upon  our  track.  The  ferocity  of  the  mouton  enrage  is  prover- 
bial ; and  we  shall  be  treated  to  the  same  rancour,  spleen,  and 
bile  which  is  now  so  pienteously  meted  out  to  the  Liberal 
Unionists. 

The  immediate  result  of  this  inevitable  split  will  be  the  for- 
mation of  a definitely  Socialist  party,  ^.e.,  a party  pledged  to 
the  communalisation  of  all  the  means  of  production  and 
exchange,  and  prepared  to  subordinate  every  other  considera- 
tion to  that  one  end.  Tlien  the  House  of  Commons  will  begin 
dimly  to  reflect  the  real  condition  of  the  nation  outside ; and  in 
it  we  shall  see  as  in  a glass,  darkly,  or  smudgedly,  something 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


199 


of  that  well  defined  confrontation  of  rich  andpoor,’^  of  which 
all  who  attend  Socialist  lectures  hear  so  much,  and  to  which  ex 
hypothesis  the  world,  day  by  day,  draws  nearer.  Then,  also, 
will  begin  that  process  which,  I submit,  is  more  likely  than 
either  the  absorption  of  the  Socialist  or  the  prolonged  permea- 
tion of  the  Eadical : namely,  the  absorption'  of  the  Radical 
himself  into  the  definitely  pro-private  capital  party  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  definitely  anti-private  capital  party  on  the  other. 

A really  homogeneous  Socialist  party  once  formed,  the  world 
political  reflects  the  world  economic,  and  there  is  no  longer  any 
room  for  the  Radical,  as  we  know  the  wonder.  Each  fresh 
Socialist  victory,  each  outpost  driven  in,  each  entrenchment 
carried,  will  be  followed  by  a warren-like  scuttle  of  alarmed  and 
well-to-do  Radicals  across  the  floor  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
which  will  once  more  become  a true  frontier ; and,  finally,  the 
political  battle  array  will  consist  of  a small  opposition,  fronting 
a great  and  powerful  majority,  made  up  of  all  those  whose  real 
or  fancied  interests  would  suffer  from  expropriation. 

Thus  far  the  outlook  has  been  clear  and  focusable  enough ; 
and  it  has  needed  no  extra-human  illumination  to  see  the  details. 
All  that  has  been  wanted  has  been  normal  vision  and  a mind 
fairly  free  of  the  idols  of  the  cave.  But  here  the  prospect 
becomes  dim  and  uncertain  ; and  little  purpose  would  be  served 
by  trying  to  pierce  the  mist  which  enshrouds  the  distant  future. 

Much,  very  much,  will  depend  upon  the  courage,  the  mag- 
nanimity, the  steadfastness,  the  tact,  the  foresight,  and  above  all 
upon  the  incorruptibility  of  those  whose  high  mission  it  will 
be  to  frame  the  policy  and  direct  the  strategy  of  the  Socialist 
party  in  those  early  days  of  its  parliamentary  life.  It  will  have 
sore  need  of  a leader  as  able  as,  and  more  conscientious  than, 
any  of  the  great  parliamentary  figures  of  the  past.  The  eye 
expectant  searches  in  vain  for  such  a man  now  among  the 
younger  broods  of  the  new  democracy.  He  is  probably  at  this 
moment  in  his  cradle  or  equitably  sharing  out  toys  or  lollipops 
to  his  comrades  of  the  nursery.  And  this  is  well ; for  he  must 
be  a man  quit  of  all  recollections  of  these  days  of  Sturm  und 
Drang,  of  petty  jealousies,  constant  errors,  and  failing  faith. 
He  must  bring  to  his  task  a record  free  from  failure  and  with- 
out suspicion  of  stain. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  difficulties  in  store  for  us  who  name 
the  name  of  Socialism,  of  one  thing  at  least  they  who  have 


200 


TRANSITION  TO  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY, 


followed  this  course  of  lectures  may  make  quite  sure.  That, 
however  long  and  wearisome  the  struggle,  each  day  brings  us 
nearer  victory.  Those  who  resist  Socialism  fight  against 
principalities  and  powers  in  economic  places.  Every  new 
industrial  development  will  add  point  to  our  arguments  and 
soldiers  to  our  ranks.  The  continuous  perfecting  of  the  organi- 
sation of  labour  will  hourly  quicken  in  the  worker  the  conscious- 
ness that  his  is  a collective,  not  an  individual  life.  The  pro- 
letariat is  even  now  the  only  real  class : its  units  are  the  only 
human  beings  who  have  nothing  to  hope  for  save  from  the 
levelling  up  of  the  aggregate  of  which  they  form  a part.  The 
intensifying  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  while  it  sets  bourgeois 
at  the  throat  of  bourgeois^  is  forcing  union  and  solidarity  upon 
the  workers.  And  the  bourgeois  ranks  themselves  are  dwindling. 
The  keenness  of  competition,  making  it  every  year  more  obviously 
impossible  for  those  who  are  born  without  capital  ever  to 
achieve  it,  will  deprive  the  capitalist  class  of  the  support  it  now 
receives  from  educated  and  cultivated  but  impecunious  young 
men  whose  material  interest  must  finally  triumph  over  their 
class  sympathies ; and  from  that  section  of  workmen  whose 
sole  aspiration  is  to  struggle  out  of  the  crowd.  The  rising 
generation  of  wage  workers,  instead  of  as  now  being  befogged 
and  bedevilled  by  the  dust  and  smoke  of  mere  faction  fight,  will 
be  able  at  a glance  to  distinguish  the  uniforms  of  friend  and  foe. 
Despair  will  take  sides  with  Hope  in  doing  battle  for  the  Socialist 
cause. 

These  lectures  have  made  it  plain  enough  to  those  who  have 
hearing  ears  and  understanding  brains  that  mere  material  self- 
interest  alone  will  furnish  a motive  strong  enough  to  shatter 
monopoly ; and  after  monopoly  comes  Socialism  or  — chaos. 
But  the  interest  of  the  smaller  self  is  not  the  only  force  which 
aids  us  in  the  present,  or  will  guide  us  in  the  future.  The  angels 
are  on  our  side.  The  constant  presence  of  a vast  mass  of  human 
misery  is  generating  in  the  educated  classes  a deep  discontent,  a 
spiritual  unrest,  which  drives  the  lower  types  to  pessimism,  the 
higher  to  enquiry.  Pessimism  paralyses  the  arms  and  unnerves 
the  hearts  of  those  who  would  be  against  us.  Enquiry  proves 
tliat  Socialism  is  founded  upon  a triple  rock,  historical,  ethical, 
and  economic.  It  gives,  to  those  who  make  it,  a great  hope  — a 
hope  which,  once  it  finds  entrance  into  the  heart  of  man,  stays 
to  soften  life  and  sweeten  death.  By  the  light  of  the  Socialist 


THE  OUTLOOK. 


201 


Ideal  he  sees  the  evil  — yet  sees  it  pass.  Then  and  now  he 
begins  to  live  in  the  cleaner,  braver,  holier  life  of  the  future ; 
and  he  marches  forward,  steeled  and  stimulated,  with  resolute 
step,  with  steadfast  eye,  with  equal  pulse. 

It  is  just  when  the  storm  winds  blow  and  the  clouds  lour  and 
the  horizon  is  at  its  blackest  that  the  ideal  of  the  Socialist  shines 
with  divinest  radiance,  bidding  him  trust  the  inspiration  of  the 
poet  rather  than  heed  the  mutterings  of  the  perplexed  politician, 
bidding  him  believe  that 

“ For  a’  that,  for  a^  that, 

Its  coming  yet  for  a^  that. 

That  man  to  man  the  world  o'er 
Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that." 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

ABSENTEE  Proprietors  . 22 
Abstinence,  Reward  of  . .17 

Abstract  method  in  Econom- 
ics   21 

Administrative  Errors  . . 37 

“Administrative  Nihilism’^  . 38 

Adulteration  Acts  . . .41 

Aged,  Treatment  of  the  . . 150 

Agriculture  and  Machinery  . 62 
Aladdin's  uncle  outdone  . 9 

Aliens,  Necessity  under  So- 
cialism for  a law  of  . . 125 

Althorp,  Lord  . . . 69 

America  (See  United  States). 
American  Independence,  Dec- 
laration of  . . . .60 

Anarchists,  Modern  . . 160 

Anarchy  preferred  to  corrupt 
State  regulation  by  progres- 
sive thinkers  . . . 160 

Andrews,  E.  Benjamin,  on 

Trusts 85 

Angele,  Constitution  and  sta- 
tus of  108 

Angels,  condition  of  their 
imitation  on  earth  . .110 

Argyle,  Duke  of  . . . 127 

Aristotle  ....  160 
Arkwright’s  inventions  . 33,  59 

Aristocratic  employments  . 109 
Ashley,  Lord  (See  Lord 
Shaftesbury). 

Associated  Capitals,  Competi- 
tive force  of  . . . 142 

Associations,  Legal  position 
under  Socialism  of  volun- 
tary   126 


PAGE 

Austin,  John  . . 39,  120,  165 

Autobiography  of  John  Stuart 
Mill  . . . . 50, 52 

A veling.  Rev.  F.  W.  . . 52 

BALFOUR,  Right  Hon.  A. 

J 106 

Barbarous  Countries,  Ex- 
ploitation of  ...  74 

Bastille,  Fall  of  the  . 34,  60 

Bebel,  August  . . . 119 

Bedford,  Duke  of  . . . 127 

Bellamy,  E.  (author  of  “ Look- 
ing Backward  ”)  . . . 145 

Benefit  Association,  Sheep 
and  Lamb  Butcher’s  Mu- 
tual   88 

Benevolence  and  Omnipo- 
tence, The  dilemma  between  23 
Bentham,  Jeremy  . . 29,  39, 

40,  53,  165 

Bequest 122 

Berkeley,  Bishop  . . . 30 

Besant,  Annie  . . . 13vi, 

“ Walter:  His  belated 
chivalry  ....  108 
Bimetalism  suggested  as  a 
solution  of  the  social  prob- 
lem   174 

Birmingham  ....  46 
“ compared  with 

Warwick  ....  i23 
Bismarck,  Socialism  and 
Prince  . . . . .102 

Blanc,  Louis,  His  Definition 
of  Communism  . . .131 

Bland,  Hubert  . . 50,  184 


204 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

Bloodsked : How  to  argue 


witli  its  advocates  . 166-7 

Bonanza  farms  . . 62,  142 

Bourgeoisie,  The  Factory 

Acts  and  the  . . 190 

Free  Trade  and  the  . . 190 

Bradford  . . . .46 

Bradlaugh,  Charles  . . 182 

Brain  well.  Lord  . . 28,  175 

Bright,  John  . . . 69,  79 

Brittany,  Standard  of  com- 
fort in  . . . . 123 

Peasants  of  . . . 134 

British  Association  . .157 

‘‘  Mind,  The  Vestry 
stamp  upon  the  . . .182 

Bryce,  James  . . . .78 

Brook  Farm  . . . .28 

Browning,  Robert  . . .23 

Burns,  John  ....  174 
Bunyan,  John  . . . 135 

CADE,  Jack  . . . .160 

Cairnes,  J.  E.,  on  the  idle  rich,  78 

Canada,  Conquest  of  . 60,  71 

Canals,  Socialization  of  . . 141 

Cant:  Its  Source  . . 4,  106 


Capital : Is  not  machinery  . 16 

Is  the  result  of  saving  . 17 

Is  spare  subsistence  . 17 
Cannot  be  safely  taken 
by  the  State  except  for 
immediate  employment 
as  capital  . . . 173 

Source  of  municipal  capi- 
tal ....  175 
Provision  for  municipal 
accumulation  . . 178 

'' Capital''  (Karl  Marx's 
work)  ....  23,  36 

“Capital  and  Land"  (Fabian 

Tract) 43 

Capitals,  Competitive  force 
of  associated  . . . 142 

Capitalism  . . . .16 

Unscrupulousness  of  . 69 

Its  idea  self-destructive  . 110 
Morals  of  . 69,  106,  109 

Characteristic  effects  of  . Ill 
Its  origin  in  piracy  and 

slave-trading  . . \58 


PAGE 

Capitalist:  Separation  of  his 
function  from  that  of 
the  entrtpreneur  . . 76 

Regulation  of  the  . . 43 

Type  of  the  . . . 105 

Capitalist  combinations  and 
State  action  . . .91 

Capitulations  by  proprietary 
classes  ....  181 
Career  open  to  the  talented  . 7 

Carlyle,  rhomas  . . 30, 41 

Cartwright,  Rev.  Edmund,  In- 
ventions of  . . . .59 

Caste  (see  Class). 

Castlereagh,  Viscount  . . 34 

Catastrophic  Socialism  . . 136, 

166,  183,  185 

Catechism,  Misquotation  of 
the  Church  . . . .110 

Catholic  Church,  Socialism  of 

the 113 

Catholic  Emancipation  . 34,  188 

Centralization  of  State  indus- 
tries ....  142,  181 
Chalmers,  Rev.  Thomas  . 39 
Charity  ...  19,  169,  174 

“ Charter,  The  People's  " . 48 

Chartism  . . . ^48,  169 

Cheque  Bank: 


Suggestion  as  to  Commu- 


nal  currency . 

. 150 

Children : In  Communes 

. 150 

Effect  of  Socialism 

on 

the  status  of 

. 182 

“ Christian  Socialism  " . 

79,  80 

Church  Catechism,  The  . 

. 110 

Church,  The  Catholic 

. 113 

Church  of  England:  A mere 

appanage  of  the  landed 

gentry 

. 31 

Church  of  England : Effect 
of  property  holding  on 
the  ....  124 
Democratization  of  the  . 182 
“ Church  Reformer,  The  " . 39 

Churches  ....  2 

Church-going,  Hypocrisies  of  5 
Church,  Declaration  of  the 
l^an- Anglican  Synod  con- 
cerning Socialism  and  the  . 174 
Civilizations  and  Societies  . 20 


INDEX. 


205 


PAGE 

Civil  Servants : Their  reputa- 
tion for  unconseientious- 
iiess  ....  107,  165 
“ Claims  of  Labor,  The . 66 
Clanricarde,  Lord  . . .56 

Clarke,  William  28,  56,  166,  186 
Class  Feeling  and  Morality  . 17, 
106,  105,  106,  108-110 
Classes,  Separation  of  . . 17 

Cleavage,  Economic  . , 185 

Clive,  Robert  . . .60,  71 

Coal  mining,  Application  of 
machinery  to  . . . 151 

Coal  monopoly  in  the  United 


States 78 

Cobden  Club  disconcerted  by 
the  appearance  of  Imports 


not  paid  for  by  Exports 

. 169 

Cobden,  Richard 

74,  79 

Colonization,  Modern 

21, 182 

Coleridge,  S.  T. 

. 40 

Combination  . 

. 14 

Benefits  of 

. 91 

Commercial  policy  of  Eng- 

land  under  Capitalism 

. 71 

Commodities : Exchange  of  9 
Process  by  which  their 
value  is  reduced  to  the 
cost  of  production  of 
the  most  costly  unit  of 


the  supply  . . 12, 178 

Common  Sense  . . 94,  116 

Commune:  Its  establishment 
in  England  already  accom- 
plished ....  143 
Communes  . . . * 2 

Communism  defined  . . . 131 

Communities,  Savings  of  . 123 
Debts  of  . . . . 128 

Compensation  for  expropri- 
ated proprietors  . . .175 

Competition : Theory  of  . 161 
Decline  of  ...  81 
Effect  on  wages  . .171 

Comte,  Auguste  . 27,  30,  169 

Comte  de  Paris  . . .28 

“Condition  of  the  Working 
Classes  ''  (F.  Engels’  work)  36 
Conduct  and  Principle,  In- 
compatibility set  up  by  Pri- 
vate Property  between  . 4 


PAGE 

Conscience,  Social  . . . ];17 

Conservatives,  Present  atti- 
tude of  ....  188 
Consols: 

Nature  of  the  operation 
called  “ reducing”  . 181 
Consumption,  Associated  121,  166 
Contracts  restricted  in  Eng- 
land   160 

Contradictions  apparently  be- 
setting the  investigation  of 

value 10 

Conventions  as  to  Morality  . 100, 

101 

Cooking,  Public  and  private  . 140 
Co-operative  Movement.  . 41, 
81,  124,  144 
Socialist  origin  of  the,  79,  174 
Aims  of  the  leaders  . 174 
Co-operative  Experiments  . 129 
Co-ordination,  Social  . . 54 

Copyright  . . 120,  132,  136 

Copper,  The  “corner  ” in  . 84 

Corners 14 

Cost  of  Production : What  it 

means  . . . .13 

Reduction  of  value  to  . 13 

On  inferior  soils  . . 4 

Cotton  Manufacture,  Prog- 
ress of  the  . . . .66 

Cotton-seed  Oil  Trust  . . 88 

County  Councils,  The  new  . 35, 

123,  128,  138,  171,  181 
County  Council,  The  London  181 
County  Family,  Origin  of  the  4 
County  Farms,  Organization 

of 139 

County  Government  Act  (See 
County  Councils). 

Covert  Garden  Market  and 


the  Duke  of  Bedford  . 

. 127 

Crime : Its  relativity 

. 105 

Criminal  Class : Its  forma- 

tion  .... 

18,  112 

Cromptom,  Samuel,  Inven- 

tions  of  ... 

. 33 

Cultivation  of  the  Earth 

. 1 

Its  beginning  . 

. 2 

Its  “ margin  ” . 

. 3,5 

Effect  of  exploration 

on 

the  progress  of 

. 20 

206 


Index, 


PAGE 

Cultivation  of  the  Earth  : 

Discrepancies  betv/een  its 
actual  progress  and 
that  deduced  from  ab- 
stract economics  . . 20 

Culture : 

Effect  on  profits  of  indus- 
trial management  of 
the  spread  of  . . 179 

Currency,  Suggestion  as  to 
communal  ....  150 
Cynicism  of  our  time  . . 5 

“ Routed  by  Social- 
ism   24 


DANTE 8 

Darwin,  Charles  . 41,  85,  169 

Darwinism  and  Politics  ” . 51 

Darwinian  theory  appealed  to 

by  monopolists  . . 85 

By  Socialists  . . .51 

Day,  The  working  . . .141 

Debt,  The  National  • . 129 

Debts,  Law  as  to  . . . 125 

Of  Communities  . . 128 

Decentralization,  Necessity 

for 170 

Definitions  of  economic  rent . 4 

Demand,  Effective  . . .19 

Supply  and  ...  8 

Democracy  : Import  of  . . 29, 

30,  35,  54,  55,  195 
Instability  of  . . .55 

Postulated  by  Socialism  166 
Further  steps  necessary 
to  consummate  . . 170 

Democrat,  Distinction  be- 
tween the  Ordinary  and  the 

Social 166 

Democratic  Federation  (See  . 

S.  D.  F.) 

De  Quincey,  Thomas  . . 40 

Desire  as  a social  motor  96,  102 
Detailed  suggestions  for  so- 
cial organization  of  unem- 
ployed labor  , . ..  140 

De  Tocqueville.  A.  C.  H.  C.  29 
Devil  worship  . . .24 

Diocesan  Councils,  Central 
Conference  of  . . . 54 

Dirty  Work  ....  145 


PAGE 

Discipline  in  socialized  indus- 
tries ....  143 

Discovery  of  new  countries  . 21 

Disestablishment  of  the 
Church  . . . .188 

Dishonesty  a product  of  Capi- 
talism   Ill 

Disingenuousness  of  Class 
Economics  , . 14,  19, 21 

Dismal  Science  now  the  Hope- 
ful   25 

Dismissal,  Power  of  . . 143 

Dissolution  of  the  Old  Syn- 
thesis   31 

Division  of  labor  ...  3 

Drainage  Acts  . . .41 

Drinking  Fountains,  Com- 
munism exemplified  in  . 131 

Drone  and  Worker  . . 4 

EARNINGS  distinguished 
from  the  revenue  of  Private 
Property  . . . .20 

Ecclesiastical  intolerance.  Re- 
action  against  mediaeval  . 161 
Economics  (See  Political 
Economy). 

Economists  (See  Political 
Economists). 

Education  : Reform  of  . .49 

Moral  ....  102 

A necessity  for  morality  111 
Socialist  ideal  of  . 115,  134 
Effect  on  profits  of  indus- 
trial management  . 179 
Tendency  of  Social  Dem- 
ocracy to  encourage  . 180 
Eight  Hours,  Working  day 

of 141 

Electors,  Number  of  . .35 

Elizabethan  merchant  adven- 
turers   159 

Emigration  ....  167 
Employer : Differentia  ted 

from  Capitalist  . . 76 

And  laborer  . . . 137 

Not  harmed  by  Socialism  177 

Engels,  F 36 

England:  Her  social  policy 

to-day  . . . .19 

In  1750  ....  30 


INDEX. 


207 


PAGE 

England : 

Her  foreign  policy  dic- 
tated by  Capitalism  73,  74 
Her  mineral  fertility  . 107 
English  Factory  Legisla- 
tion.” (See  also  Factory 
Legislation)  . . .36 

Entrepreneur  (See  Employer). 
Episcopal  Conference  . . 54 

Equality  of  remuneration  . 148, 
149 

Errors  (See  Mistakes  ex- 

posed hy  Socialism). 

Ethics : Metaphysic  of  . .94 

Positive  science  of  . .95 

Evolution,  Effect  of  Hypo- 
thesis of  . . . 24, 51 

Exchange  of  Commodities  . 12 
Mechanism  of  . . . 10 

Exchange  Value  (See  Value).  9 
Exploitation  . . . .18 

FACTORIES  before  the  Fac- 
tory Act  . . .36, 67 

Factory  Legislation  . 36, 41, 

70,  125, 167,  190 
Factory  System,  Introduc- 
tion of  the  . . . 33, 59 

“Facts  for  Londoners  ” . . 181 

“Fair  Trade”.  ...  92 
Family : Effect  of  Socialism 

on  the  ....  182 
Origin  of  the  County  . 4 

Isolation  of  the  . 122,  133 
Farms : Organization  o f 

County  ....  139 
Bonanza  ....  142 
Fawcett,  Henry  ...  4 

Federation  of  Municipalities  181 
Feudalism  : Survival  of  . 31 
Reaction  against  its  domi- 
neering . . . 160 

Feudal  clues  . . .38 

Fielden,  John  . . . 70 

Filibuster,  The  Colonizing  . 182 
Final  Utility,  Theory  of  11,  12 
Flag,  Trade  following  the  . 182 
Flats,  Living  in  . . . 121 

Fly-Shuttle,  Invention  of  the  59 
Foreign  Investments,  Interest 
on  .....  169 


PAGE 

Foreign  Markets,  The  fight 
for  ....  74,  181 
Foreign  Policy:  Effect  of 


Capitalism  upon  . . 71 

Effect  of  Socialism  upon  181 
Foreign  Trade  following  the 


Flag  .... 

. 182 

Forestalling  . 

. 14 

Fourier,  F.  C.  M.  . 

. 121 

Fox,  Charles  James 

. 34 

Foxwell,  Professor  H.  S. 

. 37 

Free  Ferry,  The  London 

. 47 

“Free  Land”  and  the  Radi- 
cal party  . . .50,  195 

Free  Trade  Movement  . . 73 

Foreign  investments  left 
out  of  account  by  the  . 169 
The  bourgeoisie  and  the  190 
Freethinker,  Possible  Elec- 
tion to  the  Deanery  of 
Westminster  of  an  avowed  182 
French  Revolution  . 34,  60,  174 

Friction  caused  by  introduc- 
tion of  Municipal  Socialism,  178 
Furse,  Canon  . . . .54 

GAMBLING  ...  .2 

Gasworks,  Socialization  of  . 45, 
139,  181 

George  III  . . . .72 

George,  Henry  . . 95,  127, 

161,  169,  172 
Georgism,  Checkmate  to  . 173 
Giffen,  Robert  . . 169,  173 

Gladstone,  Right  Hon.  W.  E.  47 
Retrogressive  instincts  of  161 

Glasgow 47 

Growth  of  ...  33 
Godin  and  Leclaire,  Experi- 
ments of  . . . . 151 

Godwin,  William  . . .39 

Gold : As  money  . . .10 

Effect  of  Discoveries  in 
California  and  Aus- 
tralia ....  167 
Goschen,  Right  Hon.  G.  J.  . 181 
Gould,  Jay  . . . .69 

Government:  In  1750  . . 32 

Industries  carried  on  by  42 
“ Government  Organiza- 
tion of  Labor  ” 


46 


208 


INDEX. 


PAGE 


Gradual  Socialization  . , 31 

Compensation  a condi- 
tion of  . . . . 175 

Greek  Kepublics  . 125,  148,  160 
Greenock  . . . .46 

Gronlund,  Laurence,  119,  121,  125 
Grote,  George  . . .39 

Ground  values,  Municipiliza- 

tion  of 175 

Growth  of  Towns  . . .32 

Guild  of  St.  Matthew  . . 39 

Guillotining  ....  182 


HABITS:  Moral  ...  97 
Automatic  . . .98 

Harbors,  Nationalization  of  . 149 
Harcourt,  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  W.  V.  106 
On  the  teetotal  stump  ' . 106 
“We  are  all  Socialists 
now”  ....  190 
Hargreaves,  James,  The  In- 
ventions of  . . . 33, 59 

Harrison,  Frederic  . . . 54 

Hastings,  Warren  . . .71 

Haves  and  Have-nots  . . 186 

Head  Rents,  Relative  Insig- 
nificance of  ...  8 

Hegel,  G.  W.  F.  . . 162,  165 

High  Church  Party  . . 39 

Historical:  Method  in  Econo- 
mics . . . .20 

Development  of  Private 
Property  . . .20 

Basis  of  Socialism  . . 26 

“Historical  Basis  of  So- 
cialism” (Hyndman’s 
work)  . . . .27 

“History”:  “Of  Agriculture 

and  Prices  ” . . 32 

“ Of  the  18th  Century  ” . 34 
“ Of  Private  Bill  Legisla- 
tion ” . . . .38 

“Of  the  Reform  Bill”  . 31 
Hobbes,  Thomas  . . . 160 

Hobhouse,  Lord  . . 171,  175 

Hobhouse,  Sir  John  Cam  . 68 
Homestead  Law  . . . 126 

Hospital,  The  . . .18 

House  of  Commons  . . 181 

House  of  Lords,  Abolition 
of 170 


PAGE 


Household  Suffrage  , 

. 34 

Huddersfield  . 

. 46 

Human  Life,  Disregard 

of 

Capital  for  . 

. 146 

Hume,  David 

38,  161 

Huxley,  Professor  . 

. 53 

Hyndman,  H.  M.  . 

27,  169 

Hypocrisy 

5, 158 

IBSEN,  Henrik  . 

. 134 

Icaria  .... 

. 28 

Idleness,  Association  of  pros- 

perity  with  . 

. 5 

Idlers:  their  fate  under 

So- 

cialism 

. 151 

Illth  .... 

. 18 

Illusions,  Economic 

. 161 

Immigration,  Pauper  . 125,  173 

Improvement  in  Production  . 6 

Effect  of  unforeseen  . 8 

Incentive  to  Labor : Under 

Socialism  f . . 151 

Under  Leasehold  system  171 
Income  Tax  . . 130,  150,  167 

An  instrument  of  expro- 
priation . . . 176 

“ Rent  of  ability  ” recov- 
erable by  . . . 181 

Independent  Weaver,  Trans- 
formation of  the  . . .59 

India,  Conquest  of,  under 
Clive  and  Warren  Hastings 

60,  71 

Indifference,  Law  of  . .11 

Individualism  : Outbreak  of  . 37 
Abandonment  of  . .54 

The  change  to  Socialism 
from  ....  137 
Confusedly  opposed  to 
Socialism  . . .96 

Its  moralization  . 97,  102 

Anti-Social  manifesta- 
tion ....  104 
Protestant  form  of  . . 114 

Abolished  in  production  116 
Industrial  Organization,  Cen- 
tralization of  . . 147,  181 

Industrial  Remuneration  Con- 
ference . . . .54 

Industrial  Revolution  . 33-35 

41,  56, 136,  159 


INDEX. 


209 


, PAGE 

Industrial  Revolution : 

Attitude  of  parties  dur- 
ing ....  189 
Industrialism,  Evil  effects  of  G7 
Industry  : Under  Socialism  . L36 
Nationalization  of  . . 43 

As  virtue  or  vice  . 106,  108 
Disgraceful  for  women  . 108 
La  grande  Industrie  . . 185 

Inequality  . . . , 1 

Mischief  of  . . .20 

Sense  of  it  lost  in  contem- 
plation of  equality  be- 
fore God  . . .23 

Inferior  soils.  Resort  to  . 3 

Ingram,  J.  K 80 

Injustices  produced  by  pri- 
vate appropriation  of  land  5 
Insanity,  Definition  of  . 97,  100 

Inspection  of  Industry  . . 43 

Institutions,  History  of  . . 103 

Insurance : National  . . 23 

Municipal  . . .47 

Insurrectionism  . . 165, 176 

Intellectual  Revolt,  The  . 185 

Interest 16 

Fall  in  the  current  rate 
often  mistaken  for  a 
tendency  in  Interest  to 
disappear  . . .17 

Mr.  Goschen’s  operation 
for  securing  to  the  com- 
munity the  advantage 
of  the  fall  in  the  cur- 
rent rate  . . .17 

A tribute  . . 105,  114 

Interest,  Class  . . . 103 

International  Morality  in  the 
Middle  Ages  . . . 157 

International  Trade  the  domi- 


nant factor  in  foreign  pol- 


icy  ...  . 

72,  181 

Invention,  Consequences 

of  . 146 

Inventor,  The  first  . 

. 6 

Iron  Industry 

. 60 

JE  VONS,  W.  Stanley  . 

. 162 

Joint  Stock  Companies: 

De- 

velopment  of 

43,  78 

Not  objects  of  public 
sympathy  . . . 138 


Joseph  the  Second 

page 

. 30 

KAYE  OF  BURY 

. 33 

Kingsley,  Charles 

39,41,  79 

Kitchens : Separate 

. 122 

Public 

. 134 

Kropotkin,  Peter  . 

. 61,  160 

LABOR  : Mouth  honor  to  . 5 

In  the  market  as  a com- 
modity ....  9 

Displaced  by  machinery  63 
Fruits  of  . . . 104 

Municipal  organization 
of  . . . . 140,  174 

Labor  colonies  . . 147 

Beginning  of  State  or- 
ganization of  . . 175 

Laborer  and  Employer  . . 137 

(See  also  Proletarian.) 
Laisser-faire  . . 36,  38,  39,  51, 

70,  160 

Lancashire,  Old  . . .57 

Expansion  of  . . .65 

Weavers’  grievances  . 72 

Land,  Rent  of  ...  3-5 
Point  at  which  it  becomes 
a close  monopoly  . 7 

Powers  of  the  County 
Councils  to  hold  . . 139 

Nationalization  of  47,  172 
Landlord,  What  he  costs  . 14 
Landed  Interest,  Its  policy  . 187 
Lassalle,  Ferdinand  . 57,  162 

Law  of  Indifference  . 11, 12 

“ “ Rent  (See  also  Rent). 

4,  53,  161 

“ Leaseholds  Enfranchise- 
ment” . . . 51,174 

Leaseholds  : Origin  of  . .8 

Confiscation  at  expiry  of  171 
Lecky,  W.  J.  . . 34,71,73 

Leclaire  and  Godin,  Experi- 
ments of  ...  . 151 

Leeds  ...  33, 38, 47 

Legislation : Breakdown  of 

mediaeval  . . . 160 

(See  also  Factory  Leg- 
islation.) 

Leveling-down  action  of  Pri- 
vate Property  . . .14 


210 


INDEX. 


PAGE 


Levi,  Leone  . . . .54 

Liberal  and  Radical  Union  in 
favor  of  County  Councils 
holding  land  . . 47,  138 

Libraries,  Public  . . . 134 

Liberal  Party,  Its  policy  on 
Socialism  . . . 190-192 

Liberty  and  Equality  53,  157 
Liberty  and  Property  De- 
fence League  . . .47 

Lincoln,  Abraham : The 
moral  of  his  assassination  74 
Liverpool,  Growth  of  . .33 

Lloyd,  Henry  D.,  on  “ Lords 
of  Industry  ”...  83 
Local:  Improvement  Acts  . 41 
Self-Government  . . 171 

Government  Boards  deal- 
ings with  the  unem- 
ployed ....  174 
Government  Board  of  the 
future  ....  181 
Lodging  Houses,  Municipal  . 47 
London:  Facts  concerning  . 181 
The  County  Council  . 181 
Extraordinary  propor- 
tions reached  by  Eco- 
nomic Rent  in  . . 171 

Liberal  and  Radical 
Union  . . .47,  138 

London  and  Southwest- 
ern Railway  share- 
holders . . .78 

Looking  Backward  ” . . 145 

Louis  XVI  ....  56 

Lying,  As  vice  or  virtue  . 107 

MACHINERY : Shoemaking 

by  ....  61 

Agriculture  by  . . 62 

Displacement  of  hand 
labor  by  . . .63 

Progress  of  . . 138,  146 

Substitution  for  hand 
labor  in  disagreeable 
employments  . . 145 

Chimney  Sweeping  by  . 146 

Maine,  Sir  Henry  . . 29,  54 

Malthus,  Rev.  T.  R.  32,  39,  162 
Man  as  producer  and  ex- 
changer . . . .12 


PAGE 

“ Man  versus  the  State  ” . 47 

Management,  Profits  of  indus- 
trial   179 

Managers,  Qualifications  and 
present  value  of  industrial 

179-80 

Manchester  . . 33, 38, 46 

Manchester  School . . 74,  168 

Its  advocacy  of  Protec- 
tion ....  176 
Manners,  Lady  Janette  on 
“ Are  Rich  Landowners 
Idle?”  . . . .109 

Manorial  Rights  . . 32, 38 

Mills  . . . .38 

Manors  . . .2, 32, 38 

Marginal  Utility  (See  Final 
Utility). 

Margin  of  Cultivation  . . 2,  5 

Obligation  of  private 
competitors  to  charge 
the  full  cost  of  produc- 
tion at  . . . 178  9 

Markets : Effect  on  rent  of 

proximity  to  . . 3 

The  fight  for  foreign  74,  181 
Marriage,  Contract  of  . . 131 

Marshall,  Alfred,  and  Mary 
Paley  — Definition  of  rent  4 
Marx,  Karl  . . 36,  162,  169 

Matthew,  Guild  of  St.  . . 39 

Maurice,  F.  Denison  39,  41,  79 
Meliorism  . . . .24 

Men,  Traffic  in  ...  9 

Mercantile  System  . . 38 

Method  of  Criticism  on  Moral 
Basis  . . . . .95 

Metoeci  in  Athens  ..  . . 125 

Middle  Ages: 

Social  Organization  in 

the 157 

Middle  Class : Its  callous- 
ness   73 

Its  moral  ideas  . 108-110 
Its  misunderstandings  of 
Socialism  . . . 164 

Its  dread  of  mob  violence  175 
Militant  organization  of  the 
working  class  for  forcible 
revoliPion  . . . 182,  184 

Militarism  and  immigration  . 125 


INDEX. 


211 


PAGE 


Military  Service  . . . 131 

Empires  of  the  Continent  125 
Mill,  James  . . .29,  33 

Mill,  John  Stuart  . . 4,  31,  39 

41,  50,  52,  168 
Milk  Exchange  of  New  York,  88 
Milton,  John,  Proposal  as  to 
sciiools  . . . o 134 

Mines : Tljeir  horrors  before 
the  legislation  initiated 
by  Lord  Ashley  . .61 

Nationalization  of  . . 150 

Mines  Regulation  Acts  . 41 

Minor  poetry.  Socialist  pro- 
vision for  the  publication 

of 144 

Mirabeau  . . . .60 

Missionaries  ....  181 

Mistakes  exposed  by  Social- 
ism : 

That  Society  is  no  more 
than  the  sum  of  its 
units  . . . 3,  50 

That  Private  Property  en- 
courages industry  . 6 

That  Private  Property 
establishes  healthy  in- 
centive ....  6 

That  Private  Property 
distributes  wealth  ac- 
cording to  exertion  . 6 

That  Rent  does  not  enter 
into  price  . . .14 

That  Exchange  Value  is 
a measure  of  true 
wealth  . . . .19 

That  “the  poor  ye  shall 
have  always  witliyou^^  24 

That  riots,  regicide  and 
bloodshed  make  Revo- 
lutions . . 56,  166 

Mob  Violence,  Middle-class 


dread  of  ...  . 175 

Molesworth,  W.  N.  . . 31 

Money,  Function  of  . .10 

Monopolies  . . . .14 

And  Democracy  . . 89 

Necessity  for  protecting 
the  Postmaster’s  . . 168 

Moral  Basis  of  Socialism  . 93 

Plabits  and  their  origin  , 98 


PAGE 

Moral  Basis  of  Socialism  : 
Education  of  the  Individ- 


ual . . . .102 

And  of  Society  . .115 

Moralists,  Foolish  ...  6 

Morality 94 

Relativity  of  . . . 96 

Recognizable  only  in  So- 
ciety . . . .97 

Conventional,  98, 100, 106, 108 
Natural  . . . 101,  109 

Practical  ....  103 


Class,  5,  23,  108,  109,  110,  159 
Elementary  conditions  of,  113 
Developed  conditions  of 


115,  116 

Socialistic  . . . 117 

Medieval  . . . 137,  158 

Elizabethan  . . . 159 

“Morals  and  Health  Act” 
(1802)  ....  41,  160 

More,  Sir  Thomas  . . . 160 


Morley,  Right  Hon.  J ohn  . 47, 
182,  192,  193 
Motors,  Influence  of  new  . 33 
Municipal : Corporations  Act,  34 
Action  . . . .46 

Socialism  . . 46,  175 

Debt  ....  47 
Development  . . .49 

Prestige  of  Municipal  Em- 
ployment . . . 177 

Municipalities,  Growth  of  . 33, 

35,  45,  46,.  47 

(See  also  County  Councils.) 

NABOB,  The  appearance  in 
English  social  life  of  the  . 33 
Napoleon : “ The  career  is 

open  to  the  talented  ” . 7 

“A  nation  of  shopkeep- 
ers” . . . . 71 

Nasmyth,  James,  invents  the 
steam-hammer  . . .60 

National  Insurance  . . 23 

National  Liberal  Federation  . 48 

“ National  Review,  The  ” . 109 

Nationalization  of  Rent  22,  47 
It  results  if  unaccompa- 
nied by  Socialistic  or- 
ganization of  labor  . 172 


212 


INDEX, 


PAGE 

Nationalization  of  Rent : 

Inter-municipal  rent  . 181 
Rent  of  ability  . 179-80 

(See  also  Progress  and 
Poverty.) 

Nature : Caprices  of  . . 3,  7 

‘‘  Red  in  tooth  and  claw  23 
Unmorality  of . . .24 

The  cause  of  Society  . 98 
Newspapers  under  Socialism  . 144 


New  Hampshire  . . . 121 

New  Motors,  Influence  of  . 33 

New  River  Company  . . 124 

New  Y ork  Legislature  — Com- 
mittee on  Trusts . . .86 

Newcommen,  Thomas  . » 33 

Nexus,  The  social  . 30,  32,  60 

OASTLER,  Richard  . . 68 

O'Connor,  Fergus  . . . 169 


OASTLER,  Richard  . . 68 
O'Connor,  Fergus  . . . 169 
Oldest  Families  — Tradition 


of  their  superiority 

. 5 

Oldham  .... 

. 46 

Olivier,  Sydney 

. 93 

Omnipotence  and  Benevo- 

lence,  The  Dilemma  of 

. 23 

Optimism : rebuked  by 

Sci- 

ence 

. 24 

The  individual  econo- 

mists  and  their 

. 161 

Organism,  The  Social 

. 50 

Outlook,  The  political  . 

. 184 

Over-population 

. IV 

Owen,  Robert . 40,  79, 

121, 174 

PAINTERS,  Gains  of  fashion- 

able  .... 

. 179 

Paley,  Rev.  William 

39,40 

Palmerston,  Chinese  policy 

of  Lord 

. 74 

Panem  et  Cir censes  . 

. 172 

Parasitism,  Economic 

. 107 

Parliaments,  Annual 

. 170 

Parks,  Public  . 

187-8 

Parties,  State  and  fundamcn- 

tal  differences  of 

120, 132 

Patent  rights  . 

. 155 

Patronage  in  the  public 

ser- 

vice 

. 165 

Effect  of  appointments 
by  ....  165 


PAGE 

Pauper  Labor,  How  to  deal 

with 140 

Payment  of  representatives  . 170 
Peasant  Proprietorship  . . 50 

Period  of  Anarchy  . . .35 

Perpetual  pension.  Privately 
appropriated  Rent  is  of  the 
nature  of  a . . . .4 

Pessimism  . . .23, 200 

Peterloo 34 

Philanthropy,  Futility  of  . 167 
“Philosophic  Radicalism,"  40,  167 
Physical  force  . 136, 166,  184 
Advocated  by  Lord  Bram- 
well  . . . .175 

Physicians,  Gains  of  fashion- 
able   179 

Piracy  and  the  Slave  Trade 


in  the  16th  century  . . 158 

Pitt,  William : His  motives  . 72 
Piener,  E.  von  . . .69 

Plebeians  in  ancient  Rome  . 125 
Plato Ill 


Police  : Conduct  of  Socialists 

charged  upon  by  the  . 100 
Recent  action  of  the  ex- 
Chief  Commissioner  of,  174 
Political : Tendencies  . 48, 186 

Reform  . . . 51,192 

“Political  Science  Quar- 
terly" . . . 28,79 

Economy  (See  Politi- 
cal Economy). 

Political  Economy ...  2 

Basis  of  Socialism  in  . 1 

Definition  of  Rent  in 
treatises  ...  4 

Theory  apparently  con- 
tradicted by  history  . 20 
Untrustworthiness  of  ab- 
stract . . . .20 

Its  guns  turned  against 
Private  Property  . . 24 

Old  school  and  new . . 24 

John  Stuart  Mill  31,  50,  52 
Ricardo  ....  162 
Jevons  ....  162 
Rise  of  modern  . 39, 160 

Perceived  to  be  a reductio 
ad  ahsurdum  of  Private 
Property  , . , 162 


INDEX. 


213 


PAGE 

Political  Economy : 

Present  political  parties 
and  ....  190 
Poor  Law:  A Socialistic  in- 
stitution degraded  . 114 

Reform  . . . .49 

The  old  and  the  new  . 167 

Post  Office : A Socialistic  in- 
stitution . . . 131 

Socialization  of  the  postal 
system  ....  139 
Economy  of  collectivist 
charges  exemplified  by  168 
Population:  Increase  and  its 

effects  . . 5, 15, 161, 174 

Its  control  by  public  opin- 
ion ....  182 
(See  also  Overpopula- 
tion.) 

Press:  Its  liberty  after  the 
socialization  of  print- 
ing ....  144 
Clamor  for  bloodshed 
from  the  newspapers  of 
the  proprietary  class  . 175 

Preston 46 

Its  public  debt  . , 127 

Prices  cannot  be  raised  to 
compensate  dimini  shed 

profits 177 

Printing,  Socialization  of  . 144 
Private  Property : Beginning 

of  . . . . .2 

Its  levelling-down  action  14 
Injustice  of  . . .20 

Not  now  practicable  in  its 
integrity  . . .21 

Its  abrogation  conceived 
as  an  attempt  to  em- 
power everyone  to  rob 
everyone  else  . . 22 

Its  revenue  distinguished 
from  earnings  . . 22 

Composition  of  incomes 
derived  from  . . 22 

Institution  of  . . . 103 

Conditions  of  its  possi- 
bility . . . .104 

Effect  on  sex  relations  . 110 
Idea  of  ...  . Ill 

Rights  of . . . . 138 


PAGE 

Private  Property : 

Cheapens  the  laborer  . 179 
Tends  to  make  the  major- 
ity mere  beasts  of  bur- 
den ....  180 
Process  of  extinction  of  . 181 
The  State  and  . . . 190 

(See  also  Property.) 

Private  Enterprise  compared 
with  Public  ....  168 
Produce:  Unjust  division  re- 
sulting from  private  appro- 
priation of  land  ...  5 

Production : Improvements  in,  6 
Effect  of  unforeseen  im- 
provements in  . .12 

Conditions  of  production 
and  exchange  . . 12 

Associated  . . 121, 133 

Profit  . . . . 6,  13 

Sweater's  ....  177 
Most  important  form  of 
‘‘Rent  of  Ability"  . 179 
Effect  of  calculating  it  in 
net  social  welfare  in- 
stead of  individual  pe- 
cuniary gain  . . 181 

“ Profit  Sharing"  . . . 151 

Programme  of  Social  Demo- 
cracy   182 

Progress : Conditions  of  . 94 
Rate  of  in  politics,  indus- 
try and  thought  . . 186 

“ Progress  and  Poverty  " . 23-5, 

162, 169,  172 
“ Progress  of  Socialism " . 41 

Proletarian : The  first  . . 6 

Predicament  of  landless  . 8 

End  of  his  absorption  by 
the  land  as  tenant  . 9 

Sold  into  bondage  . . 10 

Operation  of  the  law  of 
value  on  his  position  as 
a vendor  of  labor  . 15 
How  the  Democratic 
State  will  deal  with 
him  ....  173 
(See  also  Proletariat.) 
Proletariat : Origin  of  the  . 6 

Exploitation  of  . .17 

Physical  degradation  of  • 67 


214 


INDEX, 


PAGE 

Proletariat : 

Type  of  . . . . 105 

Morals  of . . . 110-13 

So-called  “intellectual”  . 180 
(See  also  Proletarian.) 
Property : Under  Socialism  . 119 
Definition  and  economic 
analysis  of  . . . 120 

(See  also  Private  Prop- 
erty.) 

Prosperity,  Association  of 
idleness  with  ...  4 

Prostitutes,  their  making  . 112 
Protection : Decay  of  . .73 

In  the  Middle  Ages  . 158 
Advocated  by  the  Man- 
chester School  . .176 


Proudhon,  P.  J.  . . . 162 

Public  Health  Acts  . . 41 

“ Opinion  . . . 182 

Purchasing  Power  — Perni- 

cious effect  of  its  unequal 
distribution  . . . .19 

QUIT  Kents  ....  8 


KADICALISM:  Philosophic  40 
The  modern  Radical  Pro- 
gramme . . .48 

Ordinary  destructive  va- 
riety ....  164 
Permeation  of  by  Social- 
ism ....  196 
Absorption  of  . . . 199 

The  land  question  and  . 104 
Railways : Requisites  for 
making  them  under 
Capitalism  . . .16 

Development  of  . .75 

Socialization  of  . . 139 

Raphael’s  pictures  . . . 126 

Ratepayer,  How  Socialism 
will  first  affect  the  . . 177 

Rates,  Growth  of  . . .46 

Reactionary  Legislation,  Dan- 
ger of 92 

Reform  Bills  . . . 34,  168 

Regicide : Its  victims  . . 84 

Its  futility  . . . 136 

Registration,  Anomalous  con- 
dition of  voters’  . . . 170 


page 

Regulation  of  Industry:  Me- 
dieval . 37,  157-8 

Modern  (See  Factory 
Legislation). 

Rent : Recognized  and  paid 

by  worker  to  drone  . 3 

Definitions  of  economic 
rent  by  standard 
economists  . . . 3-  4 

Point  at  which  rent  ceases 
to  be  strictly  “econo- 
mic rent ” . » .8 

Enters  into  price  of  all 
commodities  except 
those  produced  at  mar- 
gin of  cultivation  . 13 

Relation  to  cost  of  pro- 
duction . . .13 

Nationalization  of,  21,  46,  182 
Is  common  wealth,  not 
individually  earned  . 22 
Moral  Aspect  of,  104, 110,  113 
Case  of  Birmingham  and 
Warwick  . . . 123 

Law  of  ...  . 161 

Illustration  of  economic 
rent  ....  163 
Urban  . . . . 171  . 

Effect  of  municipal  So- 
cialism on  . , . 177 

How  County  Councils 
can  manipulate  . . 178 

Nationalizing  inter-muni- 
cipal ....  181 
Effect  of  Free  Trade  on 
agricultural  . . . 190 

Rent  of  ability  . 7,177 

Industrial  profit  the 
most  important  form 
of  . . . .179 

Raised  by  Private  Prop- 
erty ....  179 
May  become  negative  . 180 
Republicanism : Disappear- 

ance of  militant  Republican- 
ism in  England  . . . 185 

Residuum:  Geneois  of  the  . 113 
Its  appreciation  of  public 
hospitality  . . .114 

Respectability,  Falsehood  of 
current 24 


INDEX, 


215 


Reward  of  Abstinence  o . 16 
“ of  effort  in  the  cause 
of  Socialism  . . . 135 

Revolt,  The  Intellectual  . 40 
Revolution  : Middle  class  no- 
tions of  ...  56 
Socialistic  attempt  to  or- 
ganize militant  . .182 

(See  also  Industrial 
Revolution  and  Phys- 
ical Force.) 

Ricardo,  David  . 4,  39,  162 

Riches  are  not  Wealth  . . 18 

Rights  of  Man,  Declaring  the  182 
Rings,  Growth  of  capitalist 

82,  127,  184 

Ritchie,  Right  Hon.  C.  T.  . 138 
Ritchie,  D.  G.  . . .50 

Rochdale  Pioneers  . . . 124 

Roebuck,  J.  A.  . . .39 

Rogers,  Professor  Thorold  E.  32 
Rousseau,  J.  J.  . . .39 

Rural  economy  in  1750  . . 32 

Russell,  Lord  John,  an- 
nounces finality  . . . 167 

Ruskin,  John  . . . .41 

Russia’s  industrial  competi- 
tion in  the  world  market  . 169 
Rutland,  Duchess  of,  on  the 
hard  work  of  country  gen- 
tlemen .....  109 
Ryot,  Suppression  of  Indian  . 113 

S.  D.  F.  (Social  Democratic 
Federation)  ....  169 
Sadler,  Michael  Thomas  . 69 
Salisbury,  Rt.  Hon.,  the  Mar- 
quess of  ...  . 129 

Satan  : His  moral  activity  . 106 
Rehabilitation  of  . .114 

“ Saul  : Optimism  as  ex- 
pressed in  Robert  Brown- 
ing’s poem  . . . .23 

Saving : Capital  the  result  of  16 
Savings  of  communities 
and  of  individuals  . 123 
Schools  as  they  should  be  . 133 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  Political 
types  in  “ Rob  Roy  ” . .71 

Secretan,  Eugene  . . .84 

Seeley,  J.  R 189 


Self,  Extension  of  . . . 101 

Self-defence,  Origin  of  the 

Noble  Art  ....  100 
“Self-help”  . . . 19,168 

Seligman,  E.  R.  A.  . . 79 

Servants,  Domestic  . Ill,  172 

Servantgalism  an  Effect  of 
Capitalism  . . . .Ill 

Services,  Property  in  . . 130 

Settlement,  Law  of  . . 31 

Seven  Years’  War,  The  . . 60 

Sewer  Cleaning  under  Social- 
ism   145 

Shaftesbury,  Lord  . . .69 

Shaftesbury  Avenue,  Land 

near 127 

Shakspere,  Suggested  Duke 

of 132 

Shaw,  G.  Bernard  . . 1,  157 

Shelley,  P.  B 100 

Shoemaking  by  hand  . . 58 

By  machinery  . . .61 

Shopkeeping,  Joint-Stock  . 80 
Sidgwick,  Henry  . . 4,  52,  130 

Sidmou^h,  Lord  . . .34 

Six  Acts,  The . . . .34 

“ Six  Centuries  of  Work  and 
Wages”  . . . .32 

Slave  Trade,  The  . . . 158 

Slavery,  The  White  . . 36 

Slaves  Released  when  not 
worth  keeping  . . .15 

Smiles,  Samuel  ...  7 

Smith,  Adam  . . 32, 38 

Societies : Failure  of  pre- 
vious attempts  to  es- 
tablish true  . . .20 

Societies  and  Civiliza- 
tions . . . .21 

(See  also  Society.) 

Society  : Hypothesis  that  it  is 
no  more  than  the  sum 
of  its  Units  . . 3,  50 

The  Matrix  of  Morality  . 96 
Evolution  of  Primitive 

96,  98, 101, 103, 112 
Industrial  . . . 104 

Parasitic  . . . 106-7 

Fashionable  , . . 107 

(See  also  Societies.) 

Soils,  Resort  to  Inferior  . 3 


216 


INDEX, 


Somers,  Robert  . . .80 

Social : Utility  Divorced  from 

Exchange  Value  . . 18 

Character  of  Social 
Changes  . . .30 

Evolution  . 30, 44,  53 

“ Social  Statics ''  . 36,  54 

Health  , . . .51 

Organization  . . 51,  136 

Instinct  . . . 101,  109 

Social  Democratic  Fede- 
ration ....  169 
Social  Democracy  and 
Social  Democrat.  (See 
Socialism  and  Social- 
ist.) 

Socialism  2,  22,  131,  163,  166, 182, 
190,  194-95 
Economic  basis  of  . .1 

Bearing  of  Economic  An- 
alysis of  Individualism 

on 22 

Substitutes  Meliorism  for 
Pessimism  . . 24, 200 

Historic  Aspect  . . 26 

“ Socialism  in  England  27 
Change  in  . . 27,  119 

Early  or  Utopian  27,  30,  119, 
136,  160,  164 
Industrial  Aspect  . . 56 

The  Capitalist  and  . . 90 

Moral  Aspect  . . ,93 

Its  Genesis  . . .96 

New  Conception  of  . , 119 

Property  under  . .119 

Definition  of  pure  . . 131 

Industry  under  . . 136 

Change  from  Individual- 
ism to  . . . 137,157 

Local  machinery  of  139,  169 
Dirty  W ork  under  . . 145 

Transition  to  . . . 157 

Practical  difficulties  of  . 163 
Honesty  of  . . . 164 

Must  be  introduced  grad- 
ually ....  166 
Solution  of  the  Compen- 
sation difficulty  . .175 

Effect  on  Rent  . . 177 

Friction  caused  by  intro- 
duction of  . • . 178 


Socialism  : Outlook  toward  . 184 
Prince  Bismarck's  view  of  192 
The  Liberal  Party  and  . 192 
True  and  False  . 193-4 

Two  views  of  the  future 

of 195 

Practical  politicians  and . 196 
(See  also  the  Index  Gen 
erally.) 

Socialist  Politics  . . .47 

Programme  . . .48 

Formation  of  party . . 198 

Socialists  and  the  police  . 100 

Early  (See  Utopian  So- 
cialism). 

The  mot  d’ordre  for  . . 139 

Social  Democrats  fall  into 
line  as  a political  party  170 
The  Radical  Press  and  . 195 
Parliament  and  . . 197 

Future  leader  for  . . 199 

Spencer,  Herbert  . . 36, 41, 

47,  58,  95, 160,  169 
St.  Matthew,  Guild  of  . ,39 

Standard  Oil  Trust . . .85 

‘‘Star,  The”  ....  48 
State : Social  Democratic  . 2 

Functions  under  Social- 
ism ....  149 
Corruption  of  the  . . 164 

Whig  conception  of  the  . 165 

Conception  of  the  perfect  165 
Decentralization  in  the 

Social  Democratic  . 170 

Private  Property  and  the  190 
Attitude  of  parties  to- 
wards the  . . . 190 

Idea  and  content  of  the  . 191 
The  working-class  a*nd 
the  ....  191 
Statistics  and  Statisticians  . 173 
Steam  applied  to  cotton  spin- 
ning   59 

Stuart,  Professor  James  . 48 
Subletting  of  Tenant  Right  . 5 

Subsistence  Wages,  Rationale 

of 16 

Sunday:  Hypocrisies  of 

church  going  . . 5 

Tlie  English  . . .133 

Sunderland  . , . .46 


INDKX. 


217 


PAGE 

Supply  and  Demand : Action 

of  . . . .8,  179 

Value  decreases  with  Sup- 
ply ....  10 

Final  effect  on  wage- 
labor  . . . 16,  17 

Sweating,  How  to  defeat  . 175 
Sweeping  Chimneys:  Replace- 
ment of  boy  labor  by  ma- 
chinery in  . . . . 146 

Syndicate  of  Copper  Corner- 

ers 84 

Synthesis  : The  old  . 31,  157 

The  new  . . . .50 

TALENT,  Career  open  to  . 7 

Taxation  : Reform  . . .48 

Of  ground  values  . .171 

Novel  character  of  recent 
demands  for . . . 172 

Telegraphs,  Socialization  of  . 139 
Ten  Hours^  Bill,  The  . . 69 

Tenant  Rights : Perpetual  4,  5,  6 
Replaced  by  finite  leases  8 
Tennyson,  Alfred  . . .68 

Test  and  Corporation  Acts  re- 
pealed   34 

Tlieatres,  Communal  . . 135 

Tocqueville,  A.  C.  H.  C.  de  . 29 
Tory  of  fifty  years  ago  . 188-9 

Absorption  of  the  party  . 189 
Tonquin,  French  policy  in  .75 
“Total  Utility  ...  11 
Toynbee,  Arnold  . . .33 

Trade  : Secrets  of  . . .14 

Discredit  and  rehabilita- 
tion of  as  a pursuit  for 
the  nobility  and  gentry  108 
Trade  Unions  . . 48,  132,  168 

Wages  in . . . . 141 

Royal  Commission  (1869)  169 
Trafalgar  Square  : The  police 

in  . . . . 100,  174 

The  Fountains  in  . . 107 

Traffic  in  Men  ...  9 

Tramways,  Socialization  of 

46,  139 

Transition  to  Social  Democ- 
racy   157 

Truck  Acts  . . . .41 

Trusts  . . 14,  138,  143, 185 


PAGE 

Tucker,  Benjamin  R.  . . 160 

Turgot,  A.  R.  J.  . . . 161 

Two-man  power  more  than 
double  One-man  power  . 3 

UNEMPLOYED:  Their  ex- 
istence a proof  that 
the  labor  they  could  re- 
place has  no  exchange 
value  ....  139 
Social  pressure  created 
by  the  ....  172 
United  States  : Results  of  In- 
dividualism plus  political 
liberty  in  the  . . .21 

Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence . . . .60 

Growth  of  Monopoly  in 
the  . . . .78 

Extent  to  which  monop- 
oly has  gone  in  the  . 82 
Unskilled  Labor,  Fate  of  . 112 
Unsocialism  ....  2 

Utilitarian  questioning  and 
scientific  answering  . . 23 

Utilitarians,  The  . . .38 

Utility:  Its  relation  to  Value  10 
“ Total  Utility “ Margi- 
nal,"’  or  “ Final  Util- 
ity . . . 11,12 

Divorce  from  Exchange 
Value  ....  19 
Utopian  Socialism  . 27,  30,  119, 

136,  160,  164 


VALJEAN,  JEAN  . . 100 

Value  in  Exchange  . . 9 

Not  explained  by  the 
money  mechanism  . 10 

Man^s  control  over  it  con- 
sists in  his  power  of 
regulating  supply  . 14 
Divorced  from  social  util- 
ity   19 

Theory  of  . . . 162 

V oluntary  Associations  : 
Their  legal  position  under 
Socialism  . • • . 124 

VonPlener,  E.  ...  36 
Vestrydom  congenial  to  Brit- 
ish mind  • • • • 182 


218 


INDEX, 


Villiers,  C.  P 39 

Virtues  conditioned  by  social 
evolution  . . . 99,  100-6 

WAGES 15 

Subsistence  level  . . 16 

Adjustment  . . . 148 

Rise  after  1840  . . 167 

Apparently  raised  by 
Trade  Unions  . . 168 

Competition  wages  . .176 

Socialistic  wages  147,  177-8 

Walford's  Insurance  Cyclopae- 
dia   46 

Walker,  E.  A 4 

Wallas,  Graham  . . . 119 

Walpole,  Sir  Robert  . . 72 

Warren,  Sir  Charles  . . 174 

Wars  for  foreign  markets 

75, 181,  182 

Warwick  compared  with  Bir- 
mingham ....  123 
Watt,  James  . . . .33 

Watts,  Isaac,  on  the  cotton 
manufacture  . . .66 

Waterloo  Bridge,  Socializa- 
tion of 133 

Waterworks,  Socialization  of 

46,  139 

Wealth:  Divorced  from  Ex- 
change Value  . .19 


Wealth : Distinguished  from 

‘‘Illth’\  ...  19 

“ Wealth  of  Nations . 32 
Weaver,  Extirpation'  of  the 
hand-loom  . . . 60, 72 

Webb,  Sidney  . . 26,  27,  99,  184 

Westminster,  Duke  of  . . 173 

Whig  Philosophy  . . . 164 

Economics  . . . 164 

Disappearance  of  the  . 188 

The  Whig  of  fifty  years 
ago  . . . 188-9 

White  Slavery  . . 36, 40 

White  Terror,  The  . . 34 

Whitman,  Walt  . . .92 

Wicksteed,  P.  H.  . . . 162 

William  the  Silent,  Assassina- 
tion of 76 

Women:  Effect  of  Property 

System  on  . . 108-10 

Outlawry  of  . . . 176 

Economic  independence 

of 182 

Worker  and  Drone  . . 3 

Working  class:  Militant  or- 
ganization of  . • 183 

The  State  and  the  . . 190 

Political  superstitions  of 
the  ....  192 

ZEITGEIST,  Effect  of  the  . 44 


